stuff i like

MINORS DNI

[nyankochan]

Synopsis: he seems quite irritated by the club scene and keeps to himself despite the constant attention he receives from the other waitresses. Perhaps you can break his shell.

bro santa x hostess!reader

Content: afab!reader, single dad!Bro, mentions of grief and coping with familial deaths, soft sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, size kink (w/c:11.9k)

Your job as a hostess meant you have developed quite a repertoire with your clients.

Essentially, you’re paid to keep your clients company. Your job mostly entailed just talking with people, pouring drinks, and playing the occasional flirt. And most of your customers simply enjoyed having someone to converse with.

You played the part of a companion for a few hours, made good money, and someone was happy to have someone share their deepest secrets with. Even if most of the time you couldn’t care less, and you were quietly judging some of the scandalous things your clients told you.

But what every one of your clients had in common was simply the desire for intimacy. Or at least, an illusion of it.

However, after being in the business for a while, you realize nothing is truly 100% genuine. People’s intentions. Your interest in your client’s lives. Certainly not love.

Or at least, that’s what you convinced yourself before a particular client came along.

“Tonight’s gonna be a long night.” Beside you, your pink-haired coworker heaved out a sigh. “I should’ve called off, but if I take too many more days off, that asshole will think I’m trying to skip out on my payments again.”

“Who, Tamsy?” You ask, peeking back at your friend through the mirror as you finish up your makeup.

“Who else?” Mildretta groaned. She adjusts her tie before slamming her locker shut. “I can’t wait to be done with this stupid debt, and I can quit this embarrassing job.”

You give her a pitying smile.

You both worked at the Sphere as hostesses, aka glorified babysitters, according to Mildretta.

The Sphere was the most high-end club and bar in all of Tokyo, meaning it attracted some of the wealthiest and most successful businessmen from around the city. Unlike regular waitresses, your job was to keep clients company and offer the illusion of companionship for a few hours.

How you made most of your money was getting a client to rack up a bill in drinks or food, and through tips. With the tax bracket most of your customers were in, it was not uncommon for them to spend money like it was Monopoly money. Once, you had a client buy a 20,000¥ bottle of Champagne just because.

The job was also strictly non sexual. Well, there were no rules about taking any clients to bed off the clock, but while on the clock, your boss had a strict no fraternizing policy. It was more so in place to protect his workers from sleazy patrons who had one too much to drink or ulterior motives. Once, a gentleman touched you without permission, and he was kicked out of the club with his membership promptly revoked.

With that in place, you honestly couldn’t say that you completely hated your job. And you honestly didn’t harbor the same hate toward Tamsy as Mildretta did. He wasn’t a good man, but he was a good boss. And sure, while you were technically employed to pay off the debt you’d be saddled with after your so-called father racked up an obscene amount of gambling debt before skipping town, Tamsy had been rather lenient with the terms of your contract. After you paid off the debts, not including the interest, you were free to go.

It was either that or deal with the loan sharks.

“Why don’t we play a game to make the night go by faster?” You suggest. You finish your lipstick before closing your locker.

“What are we, five?” Mildretta scoffs.

“Oh, so you’re scared?” You clearly strike a nerve from the way she scowls. Given her competitive streak, you knew she’d never shy away from a challenge, no matter the conditions. “Tonight, we are supposed to be hosting a large party in the Sapphire Room. Whoever ends up with the biggest tip by the end of the night wins a favor from the loser.”

“Biggest tip huh?” Mildretta seems to ponder for a while. “From one customer?”

“Yup. Makes it more fun than counting all your tips from the entire night, don’t you think?”

Eventually, she cracks a smile. “Very well. You’re on.”

When you both leave the break room, the woman seems to have a noticeably more energetic pep to her step, making you shake your head and bite back a laugh. Truly, all it took was a little bet, and now Mildretta was all of a sudden excited to go to work.

For as much as she hated the job, Mildretta was actually really good at it. Every host and hostess had their own aesthetic or vibe. It was more like a role you all fulfilled, and clients could request a specific host/hostess based on what they were looking for in a companion, or more often than not, based on their own personal tastes.

For example, yours was that of the princess type. You played the role of the sweet, friendly hostess who attentively listened to everyone’s woes. Mildretta was popular with the clients who liked the mature and stern type, but you also believe that some men get off on her being mean to them.

As the elevator descended to the lower level of the club, the music grew deafening. The colorful lights were blinding, and the air heavy with the scent of booze as you and Mildretta tried to push through the dancing bodies to the VIP lounge marked with a silvery blue plaque.

The Sapphire Room lounge is luxurious, though small, with plush chairs and fancy faux-fur carpeting, encircling a small stage set up with a silver pole that stretches to the ceiling. The bar’s stationed to the far side of the wall, with a few bartenders still setting up. Mildretta immediately veers toward the bar, asking for a drink.

Before you could join her, your phone suddenly began to ring.

Upon seeing the name flash, you quickly answer.

“Hello? Guita, is everything alright?” You try to hide the twinge of panic in your tone, but you know she wouldn’t normally call unless something happened.

“Y/n,” she sniffles, and your heart drops. “Can you please tell the babysitter that you said I could have ice cream before dinner as long as I did my chores?”

If only you could reach through the phone and strangle her.

Guita was your little cousin whom you’ve had custody of since she was eight. Well, technically, your shitty dad had custody after her parents passed away in a car accident, but once he skipped town, you took her in despite only being 23, having no child-rearing experience whatsoever, and having a dead-end job as a waitress. Then, when you were saddled with your father’s debt, you had really no choice but to take Tamsy upon his offer to be able to support the two of you.

You tried not to let your little cousin know the full extent of the work you did or why her uncle had suddenly up and left. It wasn’t necessarily that you were embarrassed by your job per se, but Guita had a big mouth on her, and the last thing you wanted was for her to misinterpret your words and tell her classmates or teachers something completely wrong. You always got weird looks from some of the older moms, because they incorrectly assumed that you were Guita’s young, unmarried mother instead of her older cousin.

She also looked up to you greatly, and you tried to maintain a sense of normality in her life, but you couldn’t avoid the late hours you had to work. And though your cousin was now fourteen, you didn’t quite trust her to be by herself so late into the night. Usually, your neighbor’s daughter would watch her when your shifts stretched overnight, a teenager named Riyo.

Although Riyo was only a couple of years older, Guita enjoyed her company and considered her largely like an older sister instead of a babysitter. And of course, you always paid Riyo for the time she spent sitting with Guita.

“Guita, I’m at work,” you sigh. “I said don’t call unless it’s an emergency.”

“But it is an emergency,” Guita huffs. “It’s a matter of desserts on the line here. And Riyo isn’t budging.”

“Because the last time you got me in trouble for letting you have cake so late into the night!” You hear Riyo yell in the background.

“Guita…” you run a hand through your hair, annoyed. You look across and see the first wave of clients entering the lounge. “Fine. Whatever. Just be sure to brush your teeth before bed. Now I really have to go.”

“Yes!” Guita cheers. “Thank you! Bye, y/n! Love you! Riyo! You hear? She said yes—“ the line goes dead.

As much as you loved your little cousin, she sure had a knack for manipulating her way. Sometimes, it was easier to go along with it than to argue with her.

You couldn’t help but feel the smallest twinge of guilt staring at the wallpaper on your phone screen at a late time. The picture was of you and Guita during Halloween, and she had insisted on being a kaiju. So you had searched all over hell’s creation to be able to find a onesie for her that fit. It was worth it, though, given how happy she was.

All you did was for her sake, you reminded yourself. You were working to provide her the life she deserved and to keep that smile on her face.

Pocketing your phone, it takes you two strides to reach the bar as the first clients of the evening enter the lounge. Mildretta’s already taken her drink and sat down on one of the sofas next to a man with greying hair who seems all too happy to be crammed against the chair’s arm when she spreads her legs out. You put the sickeningly fake, yet sweet, smile on your face as you approach one of the gentlemen at the bar.

This was the part of the job you disliked.

The small talk.

It wouldn’t be so bad if people actually talked about things that were interesting. This particular gentleman droned on and on about nothing but work and a competitor he despised. The next man you talked to openly boasted about his affair with his receptionist, real scum if someone asked you. And the next client after that was no better, openly flirting with you despite your evident discomfort and attempts to laugh off his requests to take you on a date.

“She already told you no twice, now,” a voice cuts in. “If she has to say no a third time, then that could be your grounds for removal from this establishment for harassment.”

The cocky man sat up straighter with a scowl, thankfully removing his arm from around your shoulder. “We’re just having some fun here. Who do you think you-“ He looks to see who interrupted, before paling slightly.

Mildretta stands behind the couch, arms folded across her chest, with a thoroughly unamused expression written across her face. “Do I need to call security?”

The look on her face alone could’ve been enough, but no one really wanted to face the wrath of Tamsy’s security either. Especially given how on edge he’s been after a famous model was attacked by her stalker on Sphere territory, he’s been a lot less lenient to troublemakers. You’re also convinced that he only hires former yakuza as his bouncers, which makes most of them intimidating to begin with.

Nonetheless, the threat had the man sputtering out some excuse about needing to settle his tab before he scampers off like a dog with its tail tucked behind its legs.

"Thank you," you say while your colleague grumbles something about men being idiots under her breath. "You really didn't have to, though."

At that, Mildretta scoffs. "They all know the rules of this place. If they can't follow them, then they can get lost. That includes making any of the hostesses uncomfortable."

You merely shrug. "It comes with the job territory, unfortunately."

Now, it was your co-worker's turn to frown. "Just because it's the nature of our job doesn't mean that we need to be treated as less than.”

Someone calls for Mildretta, another clearly drunk client, so she gets pulled away before you respond, thankfully so. Part of you feels like she doesn’t understand. While you didn’t necessarily hate your job, it doesn’t mean that it would’ve been your first choice when looking for work. You were simply doing what you had to do to provide for your little cousin, and that meant putting up with even the less appealing parts of the job.

Mildretta played the role of the intimidating hostess, so it was expected of her to be combative and harsh. You didn’t have that luxury. It would break the fantasy you’re supposed to be portraying. And you couldn’t afford to potentially get in trouble, as it could cost you a job.

No, you just had to grin and bear it.

You look around the lounge. For the most part, most of the clients appear engaged in conversation with each other or one of the hosts/hostesses. It was to be expected, you supposed. After all, most businessmen truly came to the Sphere to conduct their deals. From what you’ve gathered by talking to previous customers, Tamsy has a strict no-violence policy, making the Sphere a neutral ground. It was effective at managing troublemakers for the most part because it ensured everyone remained on their best behavior, lest they want their membership revoked.

Sitting in the far corner of the lounge at a small table by the bar, you notice a man sitting by himself. He was dressed impeccably in a navy tailored suit. He appears older than the guy you were talking to earlier, with a dark beard and long hair to match. Most notably, however, was how bored he looked as he scrolled through his phone.

Squaring your shoulders, you place the fake smile back on your face, channeling the inner princess you’re supposed to embody. Then, you approach him.

“Hello!” You internally cringe from how high-pitched your voice comes out. A little too sweet. Too clearly fake. If the man noticed, he thankfully doesn’t comment on it, still engrossed in his phone. “You’re sitting here all by your lonesome. Would you care for some company?”

He looks up, his eyes widen in surprise as if he just realized that you were there. The man looks between you and his phone, then to the rest of the lounge, before almost comically pointing to himself with arguably the most adorably confused expression on his face. “I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”

Without meaning to, you let out a little laugh. “I do believe it’s just the two of us, unless there’s an invisible ghost or something that I’m not aware of?”

Bashfully, the man runs a hand down the back of his neck. “Sorry. I—uh…” He sheepishly holds up his phone. “I have a sitter at home, and I’m trying not to be that paranoid parent who demands an update every thirty minutes, but…” he glances around the room before a seemingly annoyed expression settles across his face. “…this is kind of running longer than I initially was told.”

You couldn’t quite explain it, but despite his tall stature, something about him radiated a sense of gentleness. “I know the feeling.” You gesture to the empty seat across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

“By all means.” His phone lights up with a notification then. After reading it, he visibly relaxes. “Oh, good. The sitter doesn’t mind staying longer.”

“That’s always a relief,” you say, readjusting the stool. “You truly be feeling bad, but unfortunately, work calls sometimes. How old?”

“Just turned ten,” the man responds. He pockets his phone after sending what you assume is a quick text back to the sitter, then picks up his half-drunk glass of what might be scotch or whiskey. “You?”

“Fourteen. I know she’s probably old enough to stay by herself, but I don’t like her being alone when I have to work late.”

“Fourteen?” You’re used to the confused looks. Given that you were only twenty-nine, quick math and your young appearance often raised questions. But thankfully, he didn’t regard you with the usual judgment most people tend to have when you tell them that you’re Guita’s guardian.

“Technically, I have custody of my cousin,” you explain. A waitress comes by and sets a water on your table, but both of you decline to order anything else. “I’ve been her sole legal guardian for six years now. It’s tough, but we make do.”

“Ah, I see.” He takes a small sip of his drink. “Guess we’re in pretty similar boats then. My…uh…wife passed away due to complications during birth, so it’s been just my son and me since day one.”

You swallow thickly, lead settling in your chest. You were used to customers spilling their life stories, and usually, you’ve mastered the generic response to not seem too dismissive but not seem too interested.

For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to be unempathetic, and inexplicably, a sense of sadness washes over you. Perhaps it’s because you could sympathize with his situation. After all, you were quite literally in a similar boat, though you’d never been married. While you couldn’t imagine the pain he probably felt of losing a lover, being an unexpected single parent was something you could relate to.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You don’t have to be,” the man says kindly. “I still have a piece of her through my son.” A rather bashful smile spreads across his face. “Though, I guess you could see why I’m a worrywart when it comes to him.”

“I’ve been told I tend to be smothering, so I think I understand the sentiment.”

The two of you share a laugh, something that comes so naturally that it surprises you.

“Um, I’m y/n by the way,” you say, extending a hand out, which the man shakes.

“You can call me Bro.”

Bro hated after-work events.

His work as an attorney already led to him working long hours, as it is, but he tried his best to have a decent work-life balance. Especially when it came to raising his son and trying to ensure that he was an active father.

The entire firm knew that come five o’clock, Bro was on his way out the door. Not a second later. That way, he could get to the station, an eight-minute walk away, on time to catch the 5:15 train, make the hour commute from Shibuya to Tachikawa, and be back by 6:30 for a reasonable dinner.

Still, it was sometimes inevitable that these after-work networking events occurred. Most of the time, Bro could escape when his colleagues would go out to the izakaya. However, because the firm was in the middle of major negotiations with a potential share buyer on behalf of their top client, Corvus Capital, and Bro arguably had the most seniority, he unfortunately couldn’t weasel his way out of attending the scheduled meeting at the Sphere.

If he were to be completely honest, Bro hated clubs and bars. Perhaps it was just the fact that he was getting older, and noisy places started to annoy him. But he also hated the way people changed when surrounded by alcohol and undeniably attractive men and women.

For the most part, Bro had kept to himself. Rather early into the night, he and the potential shareholder had discussed the terms necessary and agreed to be in contact further over the coming weeks. And with that wrapped up, Bro wanted nothing more than to head home as soon as possible, relieve his sitter Eishia from her duties, and ideally spend some time with his son, Dear, before he would go to bed for school.

Alas, Bro had to stay for the duration of the party; it would look quite bad if the top attorney representing the Corvuses didn’t play proper host. He was told the party would last until nine-thirty. But as the hour stretched closer to eleven, he began growing antsy.

Even if he left now, it’d take more than an hour to drive all the way home. Bro felt bad doing so, but he sent a text to Eishia, asking if she wouldn’t mind staying a couple of hours longer with double pay for the overtime. If she couldn’t or simply didn’t want to, after all, she was a busy student herself, he wouldn’t blame her.

In that case…well, Bro would have to find an alternative asap.

Initially, he doesn’t notice your approach, too focused on his phone as the minutes tick by with no response from Eishia. Bro tried not to let his panic consume him. After all, Eishia was very responsible. Perhaps Dear and her were watching a movie or maybe baking cookies that required her full attention. That sounded better instead of immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario.

"You’re sitting here all by your lonesome. Would you care for some company?” A sweet-sounding voice said. Bro startled slightly. When he looks up from his phone, you're standing before him.

Momentarily, Bro is at a loss for words.

The one word he'd use to describe you would be beautiful. Like a princess stepping straight from a fairy tale, your makeup was soft and delicate. Similar to most of the staff, you wore a variation of the uniform that revealed your slender legs with a button-down shirt that hugged your figure in the best ways.

There was no doubt that you were one of the infamous hostesses. Bro didn't particularly have a problem with any of them. His colleagues often raved about how good company some of the hostesses at the Sphere made. But, if he were to be honest, he wasn't quite in the mood for needless small talk, nor did he really want to spill his life story to a stranger. Let alone someone who was merely paid to talk to him.

Realizing he was staring, Bro quickly looked away, turning his gaze to his phone before looking around the room, then back to you once he realized that everyone else was preoccupied with their own individual conversations. He pointed to himself shyly. “I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”

You laugh. Bro's breath hitched ever so slightly, and he hoped the flush that burned his ears didn't show on his face. The sound...was cute.

“I do believe it’s just the two of us, unless there’s an invisible ghost or something that I’m not aware of?”

Bashfully, Bro ran a hand down the back of his neck. “Sorry. I—uh…” He holds up his phone. “I have a sitter at home, and I’m trying not to be that paranoid parent who demands an update every thirty minutes, but…” Bro glances around the room, trying not to make an annoyed face at the event that seemed to show no signs of ending. “…this is kind of running longer than I initially was told.”

“I know the feeling.” You say, surprising Bro. You then gesture to the empty seat across from him. “Mind if I sit?”

“By all means.” His phone lights up with a notification then.

Eishia: Hi, Bro! I don't mind staying! Would it be okay if I just spent the night, so my grandmother doesn't have to come get me?

Eishia: Also! Dear's already fallen asleep, haha. [Image sent]

Bro: Of course! Please make yourself comfortable in the guest room and help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen. I'm really sorry to keep you so late. I'll compensate you for the overnight

Eishia: Oh, no! It's fine, really!

After reading it, Bro visibly relaxes. “Oh, good. The sitter doesn’t mind staying longer.”

“That’s always a relief,” you say, readjusting the stool. “You truly be feeling bad, but unfortunately, work calls sometimes. How old?”

“Just turned ten,” Bro responds. After sending a text back to Eishia to insist that he would be paying her for the overtime, he picks up his half-drunk glass. “You?”

“Fourteen. I know she’s probably old enough to stay by herself, but I don’t like her being alone when I have to work late.”

“Fourteen?” Bro doesn't mean to sound judgmental. It's just...you look so young. Granted, he's not the best at guessing ages, and he knows everyone's circumstances are different, but if you were even thirty, he'd be surprised.

“Technically, I have custody of my cousin,” you explain. “I’ve been her sole legal guardian for six years now. It’s tough, but we make do.”

“Ah, I see.” Bro takes a small sip of his drink. “Guess we’re in pretty similar boats then. My…uh…wife passed away due to complications during birth, so it’s been just my son and me since day one.”

Talking about his late wife was...hard.

Bro's been in therapy for it for years, and grief never got any easier to deal with. Some days were better than others. Then there would be that one day that everything reminds him of his late wife, and it takes every ounce of his strength to hold it together.

For Dear's sake, he tried not to shy away from talking about his mother. After all, his son would never truly know her, but Bro didn't want to make it seem like it was forbidden for him to ask about her.

His therapist encouraged Bro to let Dear set the terms. Engage if he was interested, but don't push if he wasn't. Dear always seemed curious about his mother's pictures and recently took an interest in some of her old books and jewlery, but Bro knew that deep down, there was a disconnect.

Still, even though she was his mother, she was equally a stranger to Dear. That in itself was the hardest thing for Bro to come to terms with: that Dear would never really see his mother the way Bro did.

Bro never really tried to replace Dear's mother either. He'd dated casually, but until he became more established in his attorney career and had to rely mostly on sitters as he didn’t really help from family due to them being out of the country, Bro couldn't really commit to anything seriously. Plus, his focus had and would always be Dear. Something that some partners weren't always the most accepting of.

Not that it would change Bro's mind. His son would always be his first priority.

“I’m sorry for your loss," you say, voice soft. Something akin to sadness crosses your beautiful features, making Bro feel guilty. He truly wasn't looking for your pity.

“You don’t have to be,” he says. “I still have a piece of her through my son.” A smile spreads across his face. “Though, I guess you could see why I’m a worrywart when it comes to him.”

“I’ve been told I tend to be smothering, so I think I understand the sentiment.”

The two of you share a laugh, something that comes so naturally that it surprises him.

“Um, I’m y/n by the way,” you say, extending a hand out, which Bro shakes.

“You can call me Bro.”

The two of you fall into such an easy conversation that the time passes by with ease. The night that was once dragging on for both of you now speeding by in the blink of an eye. The topics of the conversation drifted from one to the next with no clear rhyme or reason.

One moment, Bro is sharing about Dear's stellar academic performance thus far in the fifth grade, like the proud dad he is. Next, you're sharing a funny story from Halloween where you and Guita dressed up as Kaiju, only to learn that the body paint you both used would not come off after the fact.

"My boss was not happy that I came to work with pink body paint still on my face," you manage to say in between your laughter. "I managed to convince him we could do a last-minute themed night in honor of Halloween. I think that idea spared me from being fired that night. People apparently really love a pink-themed vampire."

Bro's body shook with his own laughter, the deep rumble of it filling your stomach with warm butterflies. God, you think you could maybe become obsessed with the sound of it.

"I swear, sometimes we as parents go through the damndest things to make the kids happy," he chuckles. "Did I tell you that when Dear was in first grade, I got volunteered to play the tree in his school play?"

"The tree?" You wheeze. "Why?"

Bro shook his head. "I was unfortunately the tallest parent in the class. It also didn't help that Dear was insanely shy, so the only way to convince him to participate was if I got on stage with him."

"Tell me you have a picture?"

He pulls out his phone and spends a couple of seconds searching for the picture before showing it to you. Though the initial mental image made you laugh until your sides hurt, seeing the actual photo of him dressed in a silly oak tree costume, leaves strewn about his hair, next to a small child dressed as a butterfly, your heart can't help but swoon at the heartwarming image.

Bro's son favors him greatly, even though he's half Japanese. He has round eyes and curly hair that you wonder if he inherited from his father. You're assuming the child's light eye color comes from his mother. In the picture, his son slightly hides behind Bro, despite his evident attempts to get him to pose for the camera.

"Your son looks a lot like you," you say with a smile as you hand him back the phone.

"We get that a lot," Bro responds. "People say he looks more like me the older he gets, but I think he's got more of his mother's features." At the mention of his late wife, you note the fondness in his eyes. The way he regards the memory, it's evident not only that he loved her, but Bro truly misses her.

"I bet she would be happy to know how much effort you're going through to ensure your son has a good life, even if that means taking up the role of tree no. 2."

Bro chuckles. "I'm sure the same could be said of your aunt and uncle for taking in your cousin." Glancing at his watch, he then quickly downs the rest of his drink. "It's already midnight. It truly was nice talking to you, but if this event doesn't wrap up soon, I’m afraid I might sneak out."

You glance around the room. Some of the people have cleared out, but the Sapphire Room was still relatively crowded. You spot Mildretta on one of the lounge chairs, nursing a drink with a pink flush on her cheeks, clearly marking it as one of many. A few of your other coworkers had started going around cleaning up the empty glasses, while the bartenders worked on closing down tabs.

"I think I was told this ends at one, but I don't think anyone will say anything if you leave now," you say. "I honestly might see if they don't mind I leave early myself, so I can relieve my sitter of her duties."

"Would you like a ride home?" Bro suddenly finds himself asking. When he realizes the implications of what he said, he quickly adds, "That's if you need a way home. It's late after all, so the trains have stopped running, and a taxi would be expensive."

"Um..." you glance down at your phone. You were honestly going to call a ride, but it would definitely save you the extra money. "Sure. If you don't mind me grabbing my things from the break room real quick?"

"Not at all." Bro nods while reaching into his jacket's inner pocket. "I'll go close my tab while you're at it and meet you in the lobby when you’re ready.”

You try not to appear too eager to leave work early as you slip out the back with an approving nod from one of the bartenders. The text you sent Riyo about being on your way went unanswered, so you could only guess that she and Guita had fallen asleep by now. Riyo always insisted that she would stay up until you got home, claiming that she wanted to be alert in the event of an emergency, but you’ve told her countless times that if she were tired, she could go lie in your bed after Guita fell asleep.

After quickly changing out of your uniform, you briefly pause to look at your reflection in the mirror. You would’ve taken your make up off as well if you hadn’t forgotten your wipes, so despite your now casual appearance, the makeup still provided the fantasy facade of your being a host. The frown on your face deepened.

“Someday,” you reminded yourself. “I’ll leave this fantasy behind.”

Grabbing your belongings, you head to the lobby where Bro said he’d wait. You spot him instantly, faltering in your step. He was much taller than you initially realized. He’s not hard to find given how he practically towers over everyone, but that isn’t what gives you pause. Two women wearing seductive dresses are clearly flirting with him. One presses herself against his arm, though Bro stiffly tries to brush her off with a polite smile. The other curls a strand of her hair around her finger, saying something to him that you can’t quite make out from the distance.

You glance at your sweats. They were a goofy Kaiju-themed pair Guita had surprised you with, with the help of Riyo, for your birthday. While they were insanely comfortable and you loved the sentimentality of them, you were not about to approach the impeccably dressed man while two women were currently flaunting themselves in dresses that probably cost more than you made in a year.

“I’m sorry, but I really have to go,” Bro tries to shut the women down kindly. He begins looking around the crowded room, clearly searching for you.

“Awe, but the night is still so young,” the busty brunette, with clearly fake extensions, whines, and Bro tries not to roll his eyes. Even his own son didn’t whine like that. His gaze eventually settles on you, dressed down while holding the straps of your purse. You give a sheepish little wave, and his expression softens.

“Excuse me,” Bro says, this time shoving by with a little more force. “I must go. I have to get home to my son.”

“Wait, son?!”

“Ugh, he has a kid.”

Their quick personality shifts from fawning over him to disdain don’t bother him. Bro ignores their comments and grumbled complaints about how “all the good men had baby mamas.” He tried not to let the last remark irk him though anger coiled in his stomach at the blatant disrespect toward his wife. Not that they would know, nor did Bro truly owe them an explanation. Not like he was looking for company anyway.

Well, he did suppose he enjoyed your presence, and his irritation seemed to melt as he approached you.

“Hi,” you say meekly.

Bro smiles. “Hi. Are you ready to go?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I live all the way in Kodaira.”

“None at all. I live in Tachikawa, so it’s already on the way.” With a gentle hand on the small of your back, he guides you through the lobby toward the elevators that lead down to the parking garage.

It wouldn't be until the next day, when you go to collect your tips from the previous evening, that you find out that Bro had left you a tip of 20,000￥.

“Y/n, hurry up!” Guita urges, nearly pulling your arm out of its socket as she drags you out of the train. You laugh as you stumble to keep up with her.

“Guita, I promise we have time. The movie doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes.”

It was your first weekend off in a while. You had Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off, which never happened. So you decided to take full advantage of it and planned to spend the entire weekend with your little cousin. You were even nice enough to call her out of school Friday so that you could spend the full day doing things that she wanted.

After getting up early to have breakfast at your favorite pancake shop before going to get manicures and pedicures together, you headed to Tachikawa to go to the movies. Guita had been begging you to take her to see the new Detective Conan film, but you hadn’t had the time to do so until now.

You manage to calm her down enough to walk a decent pace the rest of the way to the theater, which was just outside a rather large shopping mall. Excitedly, Guita runs up to the little gift shop display, featuring a bunch of Detective Conan merchandise from stationery to themed cups, while you buy your tickets.

“Guita, come here and tell me what snacks you want,” you call. You fumble to put your change in your wallet, so when you turn toward the concession counter, you don’t see the person behind you. The other person quickly steadies you, but you drop some of your loose change in the process. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t—“

“No worries. You aren’t hurt are you?”

You both freeze.

You almost don’t recognize him at first from how casually he’s dressed. His long hair has been braided back, secured with a cloth bandana across his forehead. He’s dressed in oversized baggy clothes a stark contrast to the tailored suit you saw him in a week ago. After Bro had dropped you off at home that night, you hadn’t seen him since. It didn’t surprise you given how out of place he seemed at the Sphere to begin with, but a part of you had been a little disappointed that you hadn’t had the confidence to ask him for his number.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Bro says with a warm smile. He bends down to pick up the yen you dropped before handing it to you. “Fancy running into you.”

Heat warms your cheeks as his fingers brush yours. “You as well. Given that it’s noon on a random Friday, I figured a busy man as yourself would be at work.”

“Well, you’d be right.” He chuckles. “But I decided to take the day off. Dear wanted to see the new Conan movie, so I figured we could use a break.”

“Great minds must think alike,” you say. “Guita had been hounding me about seeing it too, and I actually had the weekend off for once.”

Speaking of the girl herself, your little cousin comes running up to you with an armful of Detective Conan-themed merchandise ."Y/n! Y/n! Can we please get these?"

You sigh. "Guita, no. We were going shopping after the movie, remember?

"Awe..." She pouts. "Can I at least get the matching keychain for my new friend?"

"New friend?"

At that moment, a young boy walks up to Bro and tugs on his shirt. He's got on overalls with sleeves so long that they swallow up his hands. His curly hair was pulled back into several ponytails, and it takes you a couple of seconds to draw the connection of where you knew him from.

"Dear, come on, put that back," Bro sighs when his son holds up to him the same Conan keychain Guita had. Dear huffs, a frown settles on his face before he looks over to Guita with a somewhat apologetic look.

"Pleaseee," Guita begs while tugging at your arm. "I won't ask for any candy with my popcorn."

You don't mention that her argument wasn't very convincing, given that the keychain was more expensive than a small box of candy. Instead, you ask, "Do you two know each other?"

Guita grins. She throws her arm around the smaller boy, who briefly looks startled by her touch, but he doesn't say anything. "We met over at the stand, and we instantly became besties since we have the same favorite character. Which is why, to commemorate, we have to get matching keychains. Isn't that right?" She turns to Dear, who gives an affirmative nod.

"You know, one day you'll make a pretty good lawyer with that argument," Bro chuckles. You shoot him a glare. He was supposed to be on your side in this matter.

Appearing rather pleased with herself, Guita's expression then morphed into one of confusion before she looked between you and Bro. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Immediately, your face burns hot with embarrassment. Beside you, Bro stiffens, the tips of his ears turning pink as he tugs at his collar with an awkward cough.

"N-no, he's uh--"

"I'm just a friend from work," Bro interrupts. "I also happen to be Dear's father. You can just call me Bro."

For some reason, the young girl's eyes seemed to sparkle at this. You don't know what was going on through her head, but whatever potential plot she was scheming, you didn't like it. "Are you going to see the movie with us? Y/n can they?"

"I mean..." You glance over to Bro, offering a sheepish look. "If you don't mind, we'd enjoy the company."

Dear gives Bro the same pleading look that Guita gives you, and ultimately, how could he deny either of them? "I don't see why not," Bro agrees. "And I'll get the two of you the keychains only if you put everything else back where you found it."

"YES! Come on, Dear!" The two of them eagerly run back off to the display. You shake your head.

"Thank you," you tell him. "You didn't have to."

"I know, but I wanted to." Bro's smile softened as he watched his son interact with the older girl. The two of them seemed to reevaluate what keychains they originally wanted. When Guita would hold up a new one to judge, he'd either nod or give a thumbs down with a shake of the head. "Dear doesn't ever make friends this easily, but he opened up to Guita right away. That alone makes it worth it."

You end up spending the rest of the day with the Santas.

You find it so cute how the two have become joined at the hip in such a short time. They insisted on sitting next to each other during the movie, leaving you sitting next to Bro as it was the only seat left. Bro had also bought the popcorn and drinks for everyone, even though you insisted you could pay.

After the movie, you roamed around the shopping mall. You had only really planned to buy new sneakers for Guita since she wore out her old pair during P.E., but somehow you got suckered into buying manga, more hair accessories than she’d truly use, and a Godzilla-themed t-shirt she just had to have from Uniqlo.

Currently, you are stuck at the gashapon machines.

“Ugh! I got a dupe!” Guita groaned after she opened the small capsule to reveal the same exact character she had just pulled. Beside her, Dear looked between the one he had and hers, before offering it. “Do you want to trade?” Dear nods. “No, if you want that one, you can keep it!” Shaking his head, he forcefully shoves it into her palm before taking her duplicate.

“I think Dear wants you two to match,” Bro chimed in, which his son confirms with an affirmative nod. The smile on Guita’s face grows.

“Then match we shall! Y/n, can I try another machine?”

“Sorry, Guita, I think I’m out of 100 yen coins,” you say.

“Aww.”

“Hm, I think I have a couple.” Bro fishes through his wallet and procured two coins for each kid. “Last one, though. After that, it’s time for lunch.”

Eagerly, the two run off, trying to determine which of the many machines they want to use. Bro then hands you a 100 yen coin. You regard him with a playful look.

“What, why not join them?” He shrugs. You shake your head as you laugh, taking the coin from him. You settle on a keychain machine. The capsule that pops out contains a small keychain shaped like a bag of chips.

“I haven’t played with one of these myself since I was a kid,” you admit. Bro puts another coin in the same machine and ends up with the same keychain as yours.

“It’s good to embrace your inner child every once in a while, no?”

Your heart flutters at the smile he gives you, and you quickly look away bashfully.

Bro was so genuinely good-natured. He had been nothing but kind to Guita from the moment he met her, but nothing about his actions seemed fake or forced. And even still, as he treats everyone to lunch and eventually ice cream at the kids’ insistence, you can’t will away the fuzzy feeling in your stomach, no matter how much you try to suppress it.

Later, you and Bro had to deal with both kids begging to have a sleepover.

"I'm okay with it if you are," Bro says. "I'm even willing to host at my place."

With a sigh, you finally relent, which leaves you and Guita back on the train to quickly run home and get her things. An hour later, you find yourself standing in front of a modest Japanese-style home that Bro texted you the address to.

"Now, Guita, make sure you're on your best behavior, and you mind your manners," you remind as the two of you walk up the pathway.

"You're not staying the night, too?" Guita asks. Your brow raises in confusion.

"Why would I stay the night?"

"Because that's what you do when you have a boyfriend, duh." She rolls her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing. Your face heats up.

"W-what? We're not--where did you even hear something like that?"

"Riyo," she says simply.

Before you could respond to that, Dear throws open the door. His eyes widen excitedly, and he runs up to meet Guita, hugging her around her waist.

"Dear, come on, you don't have any shoes on," Bro sighed exasperatedly. He came to the doorway, still dressed in his earlier clothes, though he had let his hair down. Upon seeing you, a smile softens across his face. “Hey, you.”

“Hi,” you say softly. Guita playfully elbows you, and you glare, shoving her back. “What do you say?”

Your cousin beams at the taller man. “Thank you for having me, Bro!”

“Of course. You two go on ahead inside.” Dear pulls Guita along, clearly excited to show her inside. When they were out of earshot, Bro closed the door slightly behind him.

“Thank you for being willing to host her, and um…sorry if this changed any plans you had…” You feel awkward now that it’s just the two of you.

“Truly, it’s not a problem. Dear was sitting by the window the entire time waiting. But, speaking of plans…” Now, Bro’s the one feeling awkward. You swear the faintest hint of pink creeps across his cheeks as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. “If you are free…would you, uh…like to get dinner with me?”

You blink in surprise.

“I-if you aren’t comfortable with Guita being alone, I could see if my usual sitter is available, but the house has a security system. And, I hope I’m not overstepping, but..um…” he’s stumbling over his words now, but you find it cute.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You ask teasingly.

“Granted, I’m a little bit out of practice,” Bro says sheepishly. “But yes. I am. Will you please go out to dinner with me?”

Your chest constricts, stomach warming with those damn butterflies again. When was the last time you actually went on a date? It probably had to have been before you took Guita in. Most potential partners aren't always keen on dating a woman with a kid in her care, and your cousin had been your priority. So, going out on dates had been pushed to the back of your list of concerns.

“Bro.” You offer a smile when he tenses. “I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

Bro visibly relaxes, like he couldn’t believe you’d say yes. “Okay—I mean great! Shall we go soon?”

The kids couldn’t have been less interested when you told them that you were going out for dinner. They both were too engrossed in Mario Kart to care. Although you officially deemed Guita in charge, Bro still set the alarm system, instructing Dear to only turn it off when the pizza he’d ordered for them was delivered.

Since both of you were dressed casually, you opted for just a local izakaya. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but Bro insisted their karaage was to die for, and to be honest, you dealt with enough of the rich and luxury at work. The little hole-in-the-wall shop was a nice change of pace.

With Bro, conversation came so easily, and as cliché as it sounded, it felt like you two had known each other for years. You found yourself letting your guard down more, and you were able to be yourself for once instead of having to play a role or fulfill the fantasy of someone else.

You even find yourself opening up to him about the reason why you’re working at the Sphere, the debts your father left you with, and how Guita truly came into your custody. Through it all, not once does Bro judge you.

“You did what you had to do for your family,” Bro had said. “To me, that’s the most commendable sacrifice you could’ve ever made.”

It felt authentic. It felt nice.

By the end of the night, both of you had a little too much to drink. And you were a giggly mess as Bro walked you back to his place.

“I’m sorry to keep you out so late,” Bro said sheepishly. “Honestly, I didn’t want the night to end.”

You laugh. “It’s okay! I haven’t had this much fun in years.” At that moment, you nearly stumble off your feet. Bro quickly grabs your arm to steady you, pressing you close to his chest. Heat flares across your skin.

“Are you sure you can get home?” Bro swallows thickly. “Maybe you spend the night in the guest room.”

“Can I?” The tension between you two draws tight. A flush spreads across Bro’s face as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, hesitating.

“At this point.” The tone of his voice goes heavy, hoarse with the desire he was desperately trying to suppress. “You could ask me for the moon, and I’d do my damndest to try to get it for you.”

You close the distance between the two of you, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. And Bro immediately melts at your touch. His hands hover briefly, unsure of where to put them at first, before his arms wrap around your waist. He pulls you closer, cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss. You groan at the taste of his mouth on yours, your knees slightly going weak.

“You know,” you’re breathless when you part. “For someone claiming to be out of practice, you don’t kiss like it.”

At that, he chuckles. "Come on. Let's go inside." The two of you quietly enter the house. The only noise comes from the living room television, which is playing the credits of some movie. Dear and Guita are sprawled out across the couch, both fast asleep.

Bro shows you down the hall to the guest room, pointing out the connected bathroom should you need it. You stop him before he leaves. "Stay."

"Y/n..."

"Please?" You look up at him sweetly, batting your eyelashes. Heat churns through him, rushing south as you step so close that your breasts press against his chest. Swearing under his breath, Bro cups your cheeks and captures your lips with his. You kiss him back with equal need, trying to savor the taste of him as his tongue teases its way through your mouth.

"I see now you're going to be a problem," Bro pants. "You ask me for anything like that, I'm going to break down and give it to you."

"Please stay with me tonight," you repeat, lips gracing his. Bro shudders out an exhale before he kisses you again.

Bro’s hands gently skim your waist, pulling your shirt over your head before guiding you to the bed. Butterflies fluttered in your belly as he pressed a kiss above your naval, the side of your neck, then your jaw.

You cup his cheek and pull him down so that his lips meet yours. You hear him sigh into the kiss. He touches you gently as if he were afraid you’d break. Like if he weren’t careful, you’d disappear right in front of him. You fisted his hair, starting to pull it from its usual braid so that you could feel the strands between your fingers.

Groaning against your mouth, Bro tried to savor the taste of your lips. The smell of your perfume tickles his nose. You fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, and once they’re undone, Bro shrugs the garment off his broad shoulders before taking you into his arms. You're becoming increasingly aware that one of your favorite parts of him was his body. You run your hands over his chest and abdomen, that’s gotten slightly pudgy with age, making him all the more cuddly.

Pulling you closer, he deepened the kiss. His hand traced down your shoulders and over your waist, mapping the shape of you and noting how perfectly you fit against him. When you shivered, the faintest grin graced his lips.

"Such a pretty thing," Bro murmurs. "I almost can't believe that you're real."

"Stop teasing me." You gasp when he pinches your sensitive nipple between his fingers. "Bro~" He covers your mouth when your whimpers get too loud.

"Sorry, mi amor," His voice comes out breathy when he speaks. "But you're gonna have to keep quiet so we don't wake the kids. Can you try to do that for me?" You muster a small nod, making him smile. "Good girl."

Your heart lurches at the endearing nickname, and it continues to pound in your ears as Bro carefully undresses you. He's barely touched you, but your skin feels like it's on fire. It leaves you squirmy as the feeling of him lingers, because he never quite touches you where you want him to, leaving you frustrated and wanting more.

"Bro, please," you whimper softly. Heat pools between your legs, your cunt aching with need. And when his hands dip beneath the waistband of your panties, the last piece of fabric separating you from him completely, Bro groans at how wet you're already for him.

“Just look at how wet you are, and I’ve barely touched you.” Bro wedges one finger into your cunt. His finger slides through with little resistance. Then a second is added, scissoring you slowly so that you feel the stretch of his fingers against your gummy walls. You whimper at the penetration. Your hips involuntarily buck against his hand.

“A-ah—“ you try to cover your mouth, both to keep quiet and to try to hide the embarrassing, needy whimpers that leave your lips. But you can’t help it. Not when he draws lazy circles around your clit there have your toes curling. “B-Bro—“

“That’s it,” Bro coos. He presses a kiss to your cheek before your lips to swallow up your moans. He continues to work you up with his fingers, fucking them into you slowly.

His fingers press against your innermost walls, making more sinful cries leave your lips, which sound heavenly to Bro’s ears. The squelching sound of your wetness each time he moves his fingers sent heat shooting through his body straight to his cock, his stiff arousal beginning to press uncomfortably against his slacks. Bro feels you clench around his fingers, your walls quivering.

“Cum for me, mi amor.” And when you do, you cry so prettily that it nearly has Bro cumming in his own pants. He brings his fingers to his mouth to taste you on them. He groans as your sweetness coats his tongue. Fuck, he could grow addicted to you. “Are you doing okay?” Bro asks, gently caressing your cheek.

Your vision is slightly hazy, with dots flickering in your vision from the post-euphoric bliss. “Fuck. Bro, please. I need more.”

A brief hesitation flickers across his darkened eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Bro,” you say softly. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to steal another kiss. “Yes. Give me all of you.”

The sound of the zipper coming undone has your heart thrumming eagerly. Bro’s almost shy in the way he discards his pants, then his boxers, like he was allowing you to change your mind. He was already a bigger guy to begin with, so you reasonably…assumed…he’d pack a pretty decent-sized package. But you didn’t expect him to be this big.

You gape at the sight of his cock, swallowing nervously--eagerly--as Bro's aching length hits his lower abdomen. How you wanted to drag your tongue and taste the smear of milky pre leaking from the thick red tip. He’s so thick, balls hanging heavy, and you stop yourself from asking if he’s even gonna fit with how self-conscious he looks.

You motion him forward. The bed dipped as he settled into it. “You know, I find it hard to believe you’ve been single this long when you’re packing such a pretty package.”

Bro flushes. “Is that a compliment?”

“Very much so,” you chuckle. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to kiss. At this point, you were addicted to the way his lips tasted. “Go on. I can take it.”

You both shudder out a moan as the first inch of him tries to breach past your puffy folds. Bro tries to go slow, giving you time to adjust to his size, but you’re impatient as you hook your legs around his lower back to bring him closer. “M-more,” you gasp.

“S-shit—“ Bro’s eyes scrunched shut, his breathing ragged. You felt heavenly, gummy walls clamping around him so deliciously that he was sure he’d come instantly. Already, he could feel his cock throb. Desperate to feel more. His hips rut forward, prompting you to squeal. “S-shit! Are you—“

“Don’t stop,” you demand. Already, you could feel the coil of desire tightening in your stomach. As Bro pressed further and further, it threatened to come undone. “Ah, w-wait—“

“I need you to relax for me, mi amor,” Bro grunts.

“B-but—“

The moment Bro sheathes his cock all the way, hitting where you’re most sensitive, your toes curl, and you’re gushing around him while crying out his name. It catches Bro off guard, not expecting you to cum so suddenly, let alone by him just pushing his cock in. But, fuck, if he didn’t truly enjoy the sight. And as he holds you steady as your orgasm trembles your body, he silently wishes he could play that erotic moment back again.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, covering your burning face as embarrassment overshadows your desire. How could you cum that fast already?! What were you, a teenager? “I-I’m sorry. I-I just—“

Bro gently takes your hand away from your face. He regards you fondly, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “Do you want to stop?”

“Huh?”

“We can stop if you want.” He says it so assuredly that it makes your chest swoon. Even now, this man continues to prioritize you first.

“No! It’s…just embarrassing to finish so quickly…” you mumble shyly. Bro chuckles and kisses your temple.

“I’m not complaining. If anything, it makes me feel better knowing that I have such an effect on you. We can take it slow and go at our own pace as we figure out what we like. This is new for both of us.”

His lips meet yours again, and you sigh into him. As his hips begin to move, dragging his length through your still too sensitive walls, your fingers dig into his hair. Every snap of his hips feels intentional, not too rough that it has you uncomfortable, but just sharp enough that it has you gasping for more.

You hold him tighter, your sweaty bodies melding together. Bro fucks into you deep and slowly, trying not to make too much noise. Your mouth works against his; you both desperately try to taste one another as your tongues fight for dominance. The stretch of his cock reaches the innermost part of your cunt to where you’re most sensitive, making you gasp.

“B-Bro,” you whimper. Your cunt quivers around him, desperate for release. Bro ruts against you faster and harder, bullying his length over and over against that sweet spot until you’re cumming around him. He groans into your shoulder, your spasming cunt trying to milk him for all he had. He presses into you deep as he cums.

You’re dazed, but you immediately notice the loss of warmth from him when he withdraws. “Wait—“

“Don't worry. I’ll be right back.” Bro seals the promise with a kiss before heading to the bathroom. He returns soon with a washcloth. You don’t say anything as he wipes you down, cleaning the sweat and sex off of you.

The gentle aftercare…it feels nice.

“Do you want to shower?” Bro asks you.

“I don’t think I could walk if I wanted to,” you laugh. “Can you lie with me?”

Bro doesn’t hesitate this time. He climbs into the bed with you, pulling the comforter over your shoulder to ensure you’re warm. But you gravitate towards him, lying your head on his chest to hear the steady drum of his heartbeat.

You fall asleep like this, comforted by his presence. And you can only hope that when you wake, this fantasy doesn’t end.

You wake to sunlight filtering through the window, the smell of bacon grease, and the sound of laughter. Groggily, your surroundings come into view, and it takes you a few seconds to process where you're at and that it is not your room.

Sitting up quickly, you're stopped by the slight ache in your hips. At the sight of your naked frame, your face warms as you remember last night.

You and Bro slept together.

You couldn't explain why the notion of it was so embarrassing to you. The sex was good, and Bro treated you better than anyone you had ever been with. Granted, you don't make it a habit of hooking up after the first date. That seemed like something you were too old for at this point, but you weren't going to lie and say that you didn't thoroughly enjoy it.

But now you're left in the uncomfortable limbo of wondering where that leaves the two of you? Well, Bro had asked you out to dinner, so that meant he was likely interested in you romantically, right?

Groaning, you collapse back into the pillows. The faint smell of Bro’s cologne lingers, filling you with a sense of comfort. What if, after last night, he no longer felt the same? He was a father first, and Dear was his main priority, as Guita was yours. Not to mention, what if he wasn’t over his late wife? You could never replace her, nor would you even dare to, but you didn’t want to be complete for his affection if ultimately it still belonged to another.

The bedroom door creaks open. Startled, you pull the blankets up to cover yourself, but it’s only Bro who enters. He’s carrying a tray, precariously balancing a cup of coffee and a plate of something that makes your stomach growl. When he sees that you’re awake, he smiles.

“Oh, good. Saves me from having to be the bad guy by waking you up,” Bro says. “Would you like some breakfast? The kids have already eaten.”

“Yes…um, thank you…” You pause, realizing you were still completely nude. “Actually, do you know where my clothes are?”

“Oh.” Bro clears his throat, ears turning pink. “Sorry. I threw them in the wash. Let me go grab you something.” He briefly leaves the room, coming back with a t-shirt that’s clearly one of his, for it basically swallows you up when you put it on. “I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat. Guita insisted on pancakes.”

“Handsome and can cook too?” You cut your fork into the fluffy pancake, groaning as its buttery taste floods your taste buds.

“It was mostly just trial and error,” Bro dismisses. He sits on the edge of the bed across from you. “Dear is a bit finicky with certain textures, so I’ve had to learn to accommodate.”

“He sure is very lucky to have a father like you who cares so much about him.”

“I’m honestly just trying my best, but I’m not perfect, and arguably, I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to this relationship stuff either.”

Your grip on your fork tightens. “Bro…”

“Listen, about last night—“ He hesitates. Bro runs a hand through his hair, heaving out a sigh to steel his nerves. Damn, he was really out of practice with this. He was so nervous that he could hardly get the words out.

You hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable rejections. Where he tells you that last night was a mistake. That there would be nothing further between either of you, and it would be best if you go your separate ways. For some reason, the thought makes your stomach churn, and against your will, tears begin to trickle down your cheeks.

“I..um…would like to give this a try if you’re interested, and—hey!” Bro’s heart drops at the sight of your tears. He quickly cups your cheeks. “W-what’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No.” You sniffle. “It’s just, being around you has my heart stuttering like crazy. It makes me forget all reason, but at the same time, I don’t hate it. I-I just don’t want it to end.”

Bro’s expression softens. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. This makes it much easier then.” He wipes your stray tears, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I know we did things kind of out of order, but I really do like you and want to see where this goes. I know we’re both clearly out of practice.”

At that, you choke out a laugh. “A little?”

“Okay, maybe a lot,” Bro chuckles. “But I think we should be allowed to be happy. The kids already like each other, which is the first major hurdle. What’s stopping us?”

Deep down, you know what he says is true. For once, you should allow yourself to be a little selfish and chase after the things you want. You've always put Guita first, and as you mentally work through the millions of ways this relationship couldn't work out, you frown as self-doubt begins to rear its ugly head. “My job…”

Ideally, you wanted to be cleared of your debts and free from the Sphere before pursing anything serious. Sure, you were strictly professional, but it didn’t sit right with you to be essentially paid to flirt and spend time with other men while in a committed relationship. Maybe that was just you being in your head, because Bro regards you with an odd look.

“What about it?” He asks. “Do you want to quit?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” You shake your head. “I can’t just quit. Not until my debts are paid off.”

“Then I’ll pay them off.”

“Bro, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” you exhale a sigh. “I can’t ask you to pay off the remaining five million yen left of my father’s debts so early into a new relationship. It wouldn’t sit right with me.” It would make you feel guilty to take his money, like you’ve cleared one debt to be passed on to the next. Plus, you didn’t want him to shoulder that burden.

“Very well, I don’t want to overstep,” Bro relents. “But if we’re going through with this relationship, please know that I will always support you and try to take care of you, and by proxy, Guita.” He takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “All I ask is that you extend the same love to Dear. I’m not asking you to replace his mother, but it’s important to me that you get along.”

“I know you’re a package deal.” You lean into him, and he wraps his arms around you. “Just a warning, though, Guita has the world’s best puppy dog eyes. Don’t let her fool you.”

“I’m an attorney. I deal with cunning businessmen on the daily. You think I would really cave to the whims of a fourteen-year-old?”

You smirk. “You did yesterday at the Gashapon machines.”

Bro laughs. “Fair.”

There’s hushed laughter outside the door, and you can hear loud shushes trying to silence the other. You and Bro share a knowing look.

“You two can come in,” Bro calls. The door opens, and in stumbles a giggly Guita with Dear not too far behind. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“No~” Guita says in a singsong tone as she throws herself onto the bed. “Anyway, so are you guys like boyfriend and girlfriend now? And does that mean I get to hang out with Dear all the time now?”

“Guita,” you sigh at her bluntness.

“Would you be okay with me dating your cousin?” Bro asks. Your eyes widen slightly. He...was really asking for her blessing to date you? How much more romantic could this man be?”

“Yup! As long as you make her happy, it’s okay with me!” Guita gives a thumbs up.

You give Dear a soft, albeit shy, smile. He stares up at you, large blue eyes blinking slowly. “Dear, do I have your blessing to date your dad?” The boy glances between you and Bro to Guita. He then looks at his hands before mimicking her thumbs up.

“Then, it’s settled,” Bro confirms. “Now, why don’t we get ready for the day, hm? I know a new arcade that just opened.”

“Yes! Let’s go!” Guita runs off before anyone can stop her. Dear goes to follow, but pauses at the door.

“Something wrong, Dear?”

Dear turns around, running back up to you. He suddenly hugs you tightly around your waist. It catches both you and Bro by surprise. You don’t say anything—don’t even know what to say. Then, your lips soften into a smile, and you run a gentle hand through curly hair. You let Dear pull away first, letting him hold you as long as he needed before he chases after Guita.

“Come on,” Bro ushers, giving you a cheeky smile. “They’ll only hound us if we’re not ready when they are.”

If this were just a dream, you didn’t want to wake up. A life with Bro, a sense of family with Guita and Dear, the idea that this could become your normal made you happier than you realized.

And you were going to embrace every moment of this new love that you had found.

Return to The Sphere Lobby → Enter Here

𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓼: @sugarapplepiee, @nefellibatta, @slutyuz, @awkward-walking-potato, @peanut-lovers-world, @dee-deez, @forgottensniper

[illubean]

Roc Steady

"You can tell who I am from the back 'cause it's heavy!"

Characters: Arkha Corvus, August Stilza, Enjin, Gris Rubion, Semiu Grier, Jabber Wonger Type: Headcanons, can be read as Gn!Reader but Fem! intended, established relationship

Gachiakuta characters who I think can both appreciate and handle a partner with a big ass I was gonna add Cthoni to the list but idk how to write for her </3

Warnings: suggestive, this post is mainly silly

Arkha Corvus

he's respectful with his admiration or at the very least good at hiding it

his glances were so sublte that you probably didn't even know about his infatuation until he either mentioned it or got bolder about it

whenever you approach him in private for a hug his arms snake around your waist and his large hands rest atop your cheeks

Very smooth Corvus...

whenever you bend down to pick something up or for whatever other reason he's sure to stand behind you so no one else gets to look but him, often times with a gentle grip of your hips

and whenever he starts to feel possesive, his hand rests on the small of your back

not explicitly touching your ass, but close enough to it that people get the message

August Stilza

oh baby he's your #1 hype man

and he is 100% shameless

he purposely walks behind you instead of besides you just so he can watch your ass jiggle while you walk what a pervert

and if he walks besides you it's only because you let him rest one of his hands on your ass/in your back pocket

whenever he gets his random bouts of inspiration he's sewing up something that shows off your curves and urges you to model it for him

"you look perfect as always, baby!"

his hands smooth over the fabric before giving your cheeks a firm squeeze

Enjin

Enjin lets out a low wolf whistle whenever you walk by before giving you a firm pat on the ass

like August he rests his hand on your ass/in your pocket whenever he walks besides you

very touchy and he has no shame at all

its almost like he'll die if one of his hands isn't glued to your cheeks

sometimes when you guys cuddle and you're laying on his chest he likes to slap your butt and pretend he's playing the bongos 😭

he's so fucking annoying omfg

Gris Rubion

like Corvus no one would even be able to GUESS that Gris has an infatuation with your backside

his glances are so sneaky and he typically keeps his hands to himself (in public at least)

the only way youd be able to tell is by the way he hovers around you, always a few steps behind

everyone just assumes its a safety thing and that he's looking out for you which is partially true but he mainly does it just so he can look at your butt without seeming suspicious..

every day he silently thanks August for making a uniform that fits you so well

he absolutely loves loves LOVES it when you sit in his lap

#closetpervgris

Semiu Greir

see on the surface/at first glance you'd never think she was sneaking looks at your ass the entire time unless you managed to catch her

as a mater of fact, she was checking out all of you

"no man would be able to handle allat"

she's perfectly content with just looking but if given the opportunity her hands would be all over you

her favorite thing is when you wear low rise jeans that fit you well

like not only are the jeans cute, they stretch to fit over your butt perfectly and slip down ever so slightly with every movement

semiu is a certified girl pervert

Jabber Wonger

he's shameless about it

it doesn't matter to him if you catch him staring or someone else sees whenever he swats at your ass in public

and its all more enjoyable with the way you turn around to glare at him in annoyance

no matter where you are he makes an attempt to pull you into his lap whenever you're looking for a place to sit

he loves when you're straddling his hips and facing him, that way he can rest his hands on your ass and his face on your chest

and whenever he catches you laying on your stomach he'll come over and lay down your butt (not without biting it first. freak.)

[beersnami]

dilf!nanami x y/n thoughts :3

- dilf!nanami kento looooves when you grab him by the collar n kiss him silly before work.. he’s so hot n heavy thinking about u during his shift!

- dilf!nanami kento who can’t stand when you don’t use his card.. after all, he goes to work to please you! seeing the credit card statement after you go on a shopping trip makes him go feral :3

- dilf!nanami kento who loves to slow dance with you in the kitchen, late at night, after work.. the kitchen’s only source of light being the moon shining through the windows. he’s freakishly good at dancing, laughing when you step and stumble over his feet trying to match his pace.

- dilf!nanami kento isn’t a fan of tattoos, but has your initials and wedding date tatted on his arm, a reminder of his devotion to you.

- dilf!nanami kento who’s very insecure about being older than you, feeling shy n embarrassed anytime he has to be around your family. you just have to remind him how much you love him at home…

-dilf!nanami kento who’s only purpose in life is to please you. you don’t even bother lifting your head from your pillow when he’s going down on you, he’s bound to just pull your hair anyway.

-dilf! nanami kento who needs to be touching you in some way in order to relax n fall asleep.. he can’t stand not being next to you.

God.. i miss nanami….

[chastiefoul]

"love, no... don't go," nanami rasped, voice low still laced with sleep. his breath tickled the back of your neck as he spoke. the hold of his hand around your waist was somehow tighter, even after when you thought you couldn't possibly get any closer than this; your back on his chest without any space in between.

"let me gooo, i want to make my coffee," you whined softly, the tone made it apparent that you couldn't hold a smile at the sight of your usual collected man being so clingy. provoking him further, you once more tried to release the grasp of his hand on your stomach. the man responded with a disapproving grunt, the vibration from his lips against your skin made you shiver.

"stay, please. i'll make it for you later," he pleaded, trailing lazy kisses along your shoulder blade in hope to get you stay in bed, going as far as bringing his leg over both of yours, practically keeping you in his embrace. you chuckled.

"but i want it now," you replied, yet despite those words you couldn't help but put your hand on his cheek, seeing how the blond nuzzled closer to it, chasing the contact like a cat basking under the attention.

"not yet," he murmured, doubling down by gently turning you over, bringing you closer as you rested your head on his chest. you caved under his relentless touch, both his arms folded snugly behind your back. nanami wore a satisfied smile, like he just achieved something great. "i need another hour of this. of you."

"didn't know i'll be held hostage in some mornings when i went into this marriage," you teased, the comfort of his warm hug made you abandon the scheme you never planned to follow through. your fingers made their way to draw random patterns on the navy shirt he was wearing.

he caught your digits, planting a soft kiss at the back of your hand, "and you promised to accept me as i am in your vow, so i'm afraid you'll have to put up with this for the rest of your life."

you laughed.

oh you will. and very happily.

[deartokki]

♥︎ ⸝⸝ kento covers himself while eating you out﹙ 18+ ﹚

kento is the biggest munch you've ever been with! he'll eat it for breakfast, lunch, & dinner if he could（and trust me, he absolutely tries to !）

but there's one little peculiar thing he always does . .

he always covers himself with a blanket over him while his face is buried deep in your sweet core. when he did it the first time you two ever got intimate, you just thought it was something he did out of respect for you and you wouldn't put it past him to do something like that so you let it be.

as time went on though, he continued doing this and so you couldn't help wonder why. so today you decide to find out just that.

while he's ever so sweetly lapping at your slicked folds, you very slowly lift up the blanket and peek in to see your beloved. he doesn't seem to notice at first since you're still letting out those cute whimpers of yours. but then, he soon hears a soft giggle from you and that makes his eyes shoot up to look at you.

and gosh, he looks so goddamn cute & sexy at the same time — so greedily suckling on your puffy clit and stretching you out with those thick fingers of his, it's like he's completely lost in the moment. then . . his eyes flit up to meet yours whose peaking so adorably with that pretty smile on your face.

kento stops like he'd just been caught doing something naughty（technically he had been!）and then his entire face flushes a shade of pink, smushing his cheek to your inner thigh. you'd never seen him get flustered like this & you genuinely feel your heart do flips at how cute he looks.

"honey . ." he mutters, squishing his face even more into the plush of your thighs. ". . what are you doing?"

"just looking at my lovely boyfriend." you muse, running your fingers through his hair. "because he's always hiding himself when he's eating me out."

the flush on his face gets darker as he lets out a tiny groan, embarrassed & bashful. ". . i just get shy about it, sweetheart. i don't know why but i just do."

your heart flutters at his adorable admission, and with that, you lower the blanket back down & you can hear kento hum in delight as he dives right back in to devouring you ❤︎ !

[puprut]

Bro being a pantie stealer and getting caught while doing it..

cws // male reader but its only like 1 or 2 lines at the end that reveal it, so it can be read as gn!reader up until that point. unedited.

He hadn't meant to make it a habit.

He hadn't meant to make it anything.

He had planned to throw your laundry in with his since you had done him a solid with Dear a few weeks ago, agreeing to watch the grumpy kid while Bro had reluctantly went along with a few of the other guys from HQ to a bar. It had been... weird.

He couldn't remember the last time that he had gone out without being accompanied by Guita's chatter in his ear or Dear's hand gripping the back of his shirt while he trailed behind them. He never thought about pawning them off on someone else while he roamed the streets – he had done plenty wandering in his younger years, and it had been fun, but he had left that behind when he decided to put on the cap of 'father figure' and he didn't miss his life before that one bit.

He had never seen himself as someone's parental figure, never having wanted kids of his own when he was younger, but he had taken the change in stride and found that he was actually good at it, and most important of all, that he liked it.

So, it had been an ordeal to get him to agree to going out in the first place, but enough of Enjin's bitching and Gris's coaxing had worn him down to the point he had given you his best pleading look while nudging Dear in your direction. You had agreed, happily, and Bro had catalogued the sight of your smiling face as you squatted down to his son's level and tried to make conversation, not letting the frown and silence deter you.

Being as though you had been so cool about it, and the fact that he had come back to you and Dear engaged in a serious game of 'the floor is lava', he had made it his mission to do little odd things around base, and outside, to help you out.

It had started with him fixing your plate during dinner, plopping the full plate down in front of you and ignoring your complaint of it being too much for you. Or volunteering himself up for the more bothersome missions so you could focus on other things instead. Or covering the bill whenever the both of you ended up in the same place. And more recently, it had been grabbing your laundry whenever he did his and the kids after he had overheard your complaint.

~

"What's with the shorts?"

Bro keeps his gaze focused on the cards in his hand, a tick working in his jaw as he recounts his last three losing hands. Make it four. Pendejo.

"I forgot to do my laundry again." Your voice reaches him, and unbeknownst to him, the irritation in his face melts away and his posture relaxes in his chair, shoulders dropping from where they were hunched and legs spreading. "You'd think I'd remember since it's right there in my face, but alas." You heave a sigh, and a hand lands on his shoulder a second later. "Hola, papi. Que pasa?" You purr, and his tongue pokes at his cheek as he grins, a low chuckle leaving him as he looks to the side to meet your gaze.

You have a matching grin, amusement clear on your face, and he lays his cards face down on the table and spreads his legs further. "No sé, dime tú." You blink, smile not wavering.

"No comprendo." Bro snorts.

"He said sit your ass down so you can watch me take his money again." Enjin says, a puff of smoke following his words.

"You're losing?"

"No."

"Yeah."

You reach for his cards, body stretching over, and he snatches them up before you can reach them. You quirk a brow, now partially leaned over him, and his eyes drop down to drag over your form, finally getting Enjin's earlier questioning of your shorts.

They're short and fitted, the fabric snug around your thighs and likely your ass too but he doesn't check. Not yet. They look two sizes too small for you, and he subconsciously thanks your laziness for giving him the view in front of him.

He forces his eyes back up and meets your knowing smile, and he gives a sheepish one of his own, skin warming and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"What? Don't want me to see your losing hand?"

"A man has to have some pr—para!" You try to snag the cards again, only for him to move it further out of reach, causing you to lose your balance and fall across his lap. His eyes are drawn downward, and he licks at the back of his teeth when he confirms that the shorts are snugger in the back, and then he notices the bright piece of string peeking out the top of the shorts. Are those...? "You want a hand with your laundry?" It comes out before he can think better of it.

You pop your head up, hand pausing in its quest to reveal his cards, and eagerly nod.

"Sí."

~

Bro taps the toes of his sneakers against your dorm door, calling your name right after, and when you don't give a response he turns the knob and shoulders the door open, laundry basket tucked underneath his arm.

The scent of vanilla greets him, coaxes him in, and he pushes the door shut behind him and stands at the door for a minute as he takes in your room. He's been in here a handful of times, more recent as of late, and the feeling that he should turn on his heel and haul ass has yet to fade. He always ignores that feeling –of fucking course he does. Cochino- and he does the same now, setting the laundry basket down onto your bed before heading over to your overflowing pile of laundry.

He had missed a few days, trying to talk himself out of this, but every time he had passed you by in the hall his eyes had drifted down to your hips, your ass, your crotch, and well, here he was.

He takes in a deep, slow breath and stops in front of your dirty clothes, and like a singing siren, the neon green fabric sitting at the top of the pile calls out to him.

His cock is already straining in his pants, had been all the way on the walk over, and it aches and throbs as his fingertips grab hold of the garment. He rubs the fabric between them, twisting and turning them to get a better look, and he swallows harshly when he notices a dark patch on the gusset.

Torn between wanting to draw out this moment and not wanting you to waltz in and see just why he was so eager to take on the extra loads, he brings the panties up to his face and breathes in deep, cockhead leaking pre as he does. Your musk is all-consuming, and he can't help but wish he was getting this straight from the source instead.

He groans lowly, the sound coming straight from his gut, and he has to force himself to pull your panties away from his face. He moves to toss them back into the basket and pauses, then resumes, but pauses again.

He pockets them instead.

With yours and his laundry in tow, a basket under each arm, he turns into the laundry room and sets them down on the empty table. He goes about getting the load ready: pouring in the detergent, separating the whites from colors, imagining how your ass sits in each pair of underwear he comes across.

He imagines how the fabric stretches across the fat of your ass, the swell of your hips. How the elastic digs into the pudge of your belly. How the material cups your—

"So that's where my underwear keeps disappearing to."

Bro damn near has a heart attack when he feels the stolen treasure being snatched from his pants pocket. He flinches, heat immediately settling in his face, and he whirls around to find you standing behind him, brow arched as your underwear dangles from your finger.

"These are my favorite pair, ya know. And you were just gonna what? Cover them in cum and toss them in the trash after?" His mouth opens but nothing comes out, and he wonders if he's old enough to play the senile card.

"...Lo siento. 'M sorry, guapo—ay, fuck, I didn't—"he flinches again, this time from you tossing the panties back at him. They hit him square in the chest and he catches them on instinct.

"If you're just going to just toss them afterwards, at least use a pair that I don't really like." Before he can fully comprehend the turn of events, your thumbs are hooking into your sweats and you're pushing them down your legs. The loose pants pool around your ankles, leaving you in a pair of white briefs that get pushed down next, and he sucks in a sharp breath when you bare yourself to him, soft cock resting against round balls.

You bend to pick up your briefs, and then that is tossed his way as well. "There you go. Use those. They're not as cute as my other pairs so I don't mind if you toss them after." You pull your pants back up, cock hidden away once again, and you go to turn on your heel before making a face as if you suddenly remembered something. "Oh, and next time you wanna jerk off to my dirty panties, how about you take them off of me instead of stealing them like some kind of pervert, 'kay?"

"...'kay."

[goth-queen]

[hunnismokah]

nanami likes this polaroid of u

[hijkio]

Zuko

[phyroaura]

‼️

[titsay]

[valeriapryanikova]

gerry 💘🤩💗💖😍💓🖤💕💝😍💘🥰💖💝💦😜💕💗

[kyokutsu-sama]

Some virgin Kyojuro please for his birthday 🙏🏾🙏🏾

A/n: Hi!! I received a similar request a few weeks ago. I don't know if it was from the same person, but if it was, sorry for the delay. I've been busy at work and I'm a little sick, but it's just a cold, I hope you understand🥲🙏 But luckily today I had some free time, and today is also my love's birthday, so I couldn't ignore your request.

I hope you like it❤️

Tw: Nsfw content

Virgin!Kyojuro is the kind of guy who made it clear within a few weeks of dating that you were the first person he'd ever been with and that he'd never dated before.

Virgin!Kyojuro is the kind of guy who, with every kiss, even just a peck on the cheek, already has that little smile and rosy cheeks. And if it's on the lips, he immediately feels butterflies in his stomach, and his first instinct is to hold your waist gently as if he were going to break it.

Virgin!Kyojuro is the kind of man who, on any given day, you'll remember to go further on the relationship, and he'll be caught off guard and even a little shy, knowing the care and responsibility involved. However, he will always fulfill your wishes... And that includes when you've asked him to make you his.

Virgin!Kyojuro is the kind of guy whose trembling hands and tension make you ask if everything is alright, and he says he's never done this before but that he'll do his best to make sure everything goes well and to satisfy you. If you're a virgin like him, you'll just tell him to take it slow and that it's an experience for both to get to know each other. If you're not, then that's a different thing. Then you can guide him and even make him more comfortable and tell him where you like to be touched.

Virgin!Kyojuro is the one who is initially sloppy when he's between your legs eating you out. His mouth will be everywhere and he uses his fingers slowly, preparing your entrance, and little by little, when he starts to get a taste for the trail of your essence that drips onto his tongue and fingers, he goes crazy.

Virgin!Kyojuro is the one who will ask you in that breathless and worried voice in your ear if he did well, if you liked it, if you're okay...And you'll have to hold his face and tell this man that he did well and that you're okay, that you loved it because he's a man with a great appetite for a virgin.

Virgin!Kyojuro is the kind of man who prepares for the next part, and when he feels your hand around him to stimulate him, he gasps and moans. Oh yes, this man moans a lot and loudly as hell, and nobody can tell me otherwise. He loves feeling your hand around him, but the poor guy doesn't know how to handle it.

Virgin!Kyojuro is the kind of man who, when he thrust you and you open your legs wider or pull him closer, his skin crawl all over and his muscles tense. If you run your hand over his chest and abs while whispering in his ear that he's doing well and to move, he'll have to fight with everything he has not to come, and also because of the way he feels you tight him inside you, and that takes him to heaven.

Virgin!Kyojuro Simply the one who is slow and likes to grind his hips against yours and enjoys your inner heat warm to the fullest and says he's loving it and whispers in your ear how tight you are around him and that he likes that feeling.

Virgin!Kyojuro only goes faster when you consent that he can go faster and when he does and starts to get the hang of it and sees you from above moaning and writhing beneath him he realizes that you're enjoying it and will want to go deeper and faster until he makes you come and when he sees you at the peak of pleasure...He can't take it anymore and comes too.

Virgin!Kyojuro Simply that sweet and caring man who will spend the next few moments cuddling with you, admiring you while playing with your hair and saying that he has never felt so good and that he is grateful to have been the first.

[ninthform-rengoku]

[nyankochan]

synopsis: he seems somewhat out of place and is quite the mystery when you first meet him at the club’s bar. Why don’t you show him a good time and help him relax a bit?

corvus arkha x redacted!reader

Content: afab!reader, age gap (reader is 26, and Corvus is around 36), Oral (f. Receiving), rough sex, penetrative sex (protection is used), size kink, body worship, multiple orgasms, implied marathon sex, I hope I didn’t miss anything, but I apologize if I did (w/c: 11k)

In the underworld, power is everything.

You learned that lesson from an early age.

If you have power, whether that be in the form of wealth or physical strength, you can essentially control everything, bully the weak, and people, above all, will respect you.

However, you’ve started to realize that power increasingly lies among those with money. You’ve witnessed it more times than you could count where powerful men use their money to buy their way to the top and to buy the silence of their enemies or their victims.

You honestly couldn’t stand it.

But it’s not like you were in any position to say anything. Sure, you hadn’t been at the bottom of the food chain, but you were pretty damn close to it. You managed to skate by rather unnoticed for the most part, because you had mastered the art of keeping your mouth shut and doing as you were told.

No, the weak had no business fighting back against the strong. It was eat or be eaten in the world of the yakuza.

The other thing that you learned was that if you were the weak, by default, you were nothing more than a pawn, meant to be discarded to better serve the organization. It didn’t matter how loyal you were. At the end of the day, you were replaceable.

And unfortunately, you learned this lesson a little too late.

“For the love of fuck—“ Your exasperated tone makes your coworker flinch, and you swear, tears are welling in his eyes. You bite back your irritation, count to ten—then thirty—before exhaling. “Fu,” you say, much calmer this time. “You’re not supposed to give customers discounts just because they say they’re a vip. Just about every asshole that comes in here thinks they’re important.”

“I-I know that but…” the white-haired boy sulks, nervously twiddling his fingers. “He seemed really scary. I didn’t want to make him mad…”

You run a hand through your hair. Again, you count to ten. “Look, if any of those jerks give you trouble, they’re going to ask for a manager, right?”

“Right.”

“And who is your manager?”

“You are ma’am.”

"Right. So, if they're going to be mad at anyone, it's going to be me."

Fu nods slowly, still somewhat hesitant. "But--"

"Fu," you interrupt, causing him to straighten quickly. You try your best to mask your annoyance with what you hope is a reassuring smile. "Just do as I say. I'm not going to let you get in trouble for following my orders, okay?"

For whatever reason, that seems to convince him, his usual awkward smile settling back on his face. "Okay! Whatever you tell me to do, ma'am."

"Great, now, um.." He stares at you expectantly, a hint of excitement glimmering in his eyes as he waits for your next set of instructions. "Go start on the closing duties so that we can actually get out of here on time tonight."

“Yes ma’am!”

You sigh for what felt like the infinite time watching him skip off. Though Fu was a good worker, you realize that his fatal flaw is his inability to take any preemptive action on his own. He’ll do anything you ask him to without complaint, and you’d be lying to say that you haven’t at times made him do the tasks you hated to do, such as taking out the trash. Hell, he’d probably jump off a cliff if you told him to do so.

But because of that, Fu never takes any real initiative. He’s always afraid of getting in trouble with higher management, not that you could blame him, though you didn’t quite understand why. As far as you knew, Fu didn’t have any major, serious debts to the establishment. Maybe a few hundred thousand. But then again, it’s easier to not have to take accountability when you can say, “The manager told me to do it.”

In fact, as the small fish in a sea of sharks, it was probably the smartest thing one could do to avoid becoming a target. If the strong are focused on another, then you, as the weak, can skate by undetected.

Unfortunately for you, you’ve already painted quite a large target on your back. Not just in how, within the last six months, you had been promoted to manager in the Sphere’s bar, but also because of your debts to the owner.

10 million yen.

In exchange for your freedom.

It seemed like a good deal, and at the time, you truly didn’t have any other options. Well, you did, but if you had to choose working for Tamsy for 5 and a half years or 20 years in jail, you would pick the job at the Sphere over again in a heartbeat.

A story for another day, though, because the call of your name pulls you out of your thoughts.

“You goin’ deaf on me or something? Been calling your name for a couple of minutes now.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the blond man’s smug smirk as he settles on the bar’s stool. “Enjin, I thought you would be laid up somewhere with your girl.” You give a teasing grin. “Did you get put back in the dog house?”

He scoffs. The male pulls out a box of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’ll have you know, my girl and I are just fine. I still have to pick up shifts here every once in a while. I can’t complain, because it makes for extra cash.” Enjin holds the box out to you in offering, which you decline.

You and the blond were actually pretty close, given that you both go way back. Both of you grew up in the foster care system. As a kid, Enjin was the closest thing you had to an older brother. He was the one who made sure you never missed a day of school, working odd jobs at night to make sure you had school supplies and new shoes. He would stay up to help you do your homework. Even as his own grades slipped and he frequently got into trouble for skipping class, Enjin ensured that you never followed in his footsteps.

He aged out of the system at 18, and though you begged him to take you with him, he wouldn’t. Enjin swore up and down it was because he’d be a terrible guardian, but you think it was that he tried to hide the shady work he thought you didn’t know.

You didn’t really see much of him until you aged out a couple of years later, but during that time, Enjin always sent you money from the random jobs he continued to work. Throughout your twenties, you ran in similar circles, but you kind of lost touch at one point when he was dating his then, now current once again, model girlfriend.

When you both ended up working for the Sphere, Enjin was assigned to security while you were in hospitality. Though after he made amends with his girlfriend, she hired him as her personal bodyguard. You assumed that meant he quit completely, but you supposed not.

But then again, you don’t just quit the Sphere. It’s not that simple. And if you remembered correctly, Enjin’s debt was similar to yours, but maybe a little less due to the nature of his contract. Though he was probably closer to paying his off, because you’re pretty sure bouncers made more than the bartenders or waitresses.

You pop open the tab to a Sapporo, sliding the beer across the counter to Enjin. “Any particular reason you’re here instead of actually bodyguarding?” You try not to frown at him as he lights the cigarette indoors.

“Can’t I see my favorite waitress whom I love like a little sister?”

“Maybe if I were fishing for compliments, I’d believe that.”

“Boo.” He takes the beer, gulping down a large swig of it before setting it back on the counter. “Ya know, ever since you became a manager, you’ve turned into a real hard ass, you know?”

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

Shaking his head, Enjin takes a drag from his cigarette. You hate the scent of the coiling smoke and how it seems to linger after he exhales. “In actuality, some negotiations are supposed to be happening tonight,” Enjin finally explains. “Between the Typhon group and the Corvus group. The boss is worried about things potentially escalating and wants more people around just in case.”

A chill runs down your spine, and cold constricts your chest at the mention of a name you’ve long loathed.

Typhon. As in, Zodyl Typhon.

It’s a little-known secret to most, unless you run in underground circles, then it’s pretty well known, that the Typhon Corporation had its shady connections. Namely, it had affiliations with a gang organization called the Raiders.

Mostly, the Raiders dealt in black market deals. Selling encrypted tech and data from one rival group to the other. Hacking and malware installation. Blackmail. Rarely did their work escalate into physical violence, but there were exceptions.

As far as you knew, Zodyl himself never publicly associated himself with members of the Raiders. Typically, his colleagues handled that business on his behalf. Still, knowing that the man running the group from behind the scenes, who was responsible for you and Enjin’s current situation, was coming, made you sick with anxiety.

“Hey,” Enjin gently calls. You jump when he places his tattooed hand on top of your head. The way he ruffles your hair brings you back to being eight and ten, when he used to comfort you after waking up from a nightmare. “Don’t worry. Nothing's gonna happen on my watch.“

You huff bashfully, shrinking under his soft expression, his golden eyes holding that familiar warmth from your childhood. “Who said I was scared?”

Enjin grins. “I didn’t say anything about being afraid.”

Swatting his hand away, you curse him under your breath. His boisterous laugh, as much as it irritates you, brings you a reassuring sense of comfort. You didn’t have many friends in the Sphere—well, really, any at all. It was hard to come by people with genuine intentions, and it was Enjin who taught you to never be too trusting of others. Most who came to the Club were often in the pursuit of their own self-interests or desires, and they would be all too willing to sacrifice you for their personal gains.

Having at least Enjin in your corner was something you were forever grateful for.

Besides, the more you thought about it, why would a multibillionaire care about how his business affected a faceless nobody?

After you continue to briefly catch up with Enjin on work and the like, ending with a promise to get dinner with him and his girlfriend (because you really want to see what a successful model sees in your idiot friend), you realize that another gentleman has taken a seat at the bar.

It somewhat startled you, seeing him sitting there. You feel like you would’ve noticed someone like him approaching for the way his presence seems to command respect.

The man’s large to say the least—well, perhaps broad would be the better word to say, shoulders filling out his black pinstripe suit with a charcoal grey overcoat hanging off of them. He has locs, which are shorter than those of another one of the bartenders you work with, and pulled into a low ponytail at the base of his neck.

His light eyes glance you over once, before a small smile tugs at his lips. Your skin begins to feel hot.

“Um…” you clear your throat. “I’m sorry. Have you been waiting long?”

“Hmm, long enough, I suppose.” His voice had a low timber to it yet it sounded oddly soothing.

“I apologize, sir.” His stare made you want to shrink back. Not because it felt like he was scrutinizing you, as most inpatient clients seemed to do when having to wait more than thirty seconds for service, but rather, he seemed to regard you with intrigue. “C-can I get you anything to drink?”

After a brief pause, he answers with, “A Manhattan, please and thank you.”

You pause and regard him with a curious look. “Your accent. You’re from Kansai?”

“Just moved from Osaka.”

“Really?” You pull the whiskey and vermouth from the shelf. In this field, you’re accustomed to meeting people from all over Japan. Not to mention, you’ve encountered quite a few foreigners as well. It kept the job interesting. “How do you like Tokyo so far? Completely different vibe, isn’t it?”

“It’s loud,” the man answers, and you laugh. “Shibuya is at least. I’ve also yet to find a better takoyaki stand than the ones back in Osaka.”

“I’ve never been, so I can’t really compare fairly,” you say while adding ice to the shaker before measuring out the alcohol. “If you like ramen, though, there’s a pretty good hole-in-the-wall spot on Udagawa Street. Their spicy chicken is pretty good, but for the love of god, stay away from Ichiran.”

An amused smile tugs at his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Pouring the drink into a glass, you finish it off with a garnish. The gentleman brings it to his lips, taking a slow, meaningful sip. “Tokyo, I think,” he begins, “is a little too fast-paced for me. Everyone is moving, never pausing long enough to savor a good cocktail or to even engage in a thoughtful conversation with a stranger. It can make it quite lonely, don’t you think?”

Though you somewhat agree with him, you instead ask, “Too fast paced? But didn’t you say you were from Osaka?”

“I said I moved from Osaka, not that I was from there.”

“Oh.” You feel your face flush, embarrassed by your assumption, but his kind smile doesn’t waver.

“My father was from Okinawa, which is where I grew up, and my mother is from the Caribbean. The large cities may bring opportunity, but the small islands and the serenity they exude will always be home.”

There is a subtle shift in his demeanor. You almost don’t notice it from how stern the rest of his expression is, but there is a certain fondness in his eyes at the mention of Okinawa. You had never been, though you had heard plenty about how it was beautiful. Some say even more so than the American state of Hawaii, not that you’ve been there either. You could only imagine as well how beautiful the Caribbean was.

It’s not like you could ever afford to travel. Living in Tokyo was expensive enough as it was. You spent most of your early twenties bunking with Enjin in a janky studio apartment. However, once he started dating, you felt awkward coming over if his girlfriend was there, feeling like you were intruding. You eventually managed to scrape together enough for your own place, but living paycheck to paycheck meant there was no hope of vacationing.

You lived vicariously through your guests, who would tell you of their travels abroad and throughout Japan. Sapporo. Sydney. Paris. Los Angeles. Bangkok. Athens. Rio de Janeiro. Hong Kong. Amsterdam. Honestly, your bucket list was endless at this point. Hell, you’d be happy just to ride the Shinkansen to Kyoto.

What would it be like to have that little taste of freedom? You made okay money now, but it still wasn’t like you could really leave Tokyo while you were still indebted to the Sphere. Not to mention, as thrilling as the idea of leaving home was…you’d be alone. Enjin was the closest thing you had to a family. While you’ve mended your relationship over the years, now that he was dating again, you didn’t want to keep over relying on him like a needy little sister.

“Being on a peaceful beach surrounded by nothing but ocean sounds a hell of a lot better than the constant car honking and blaring neon lights,” you joke, trying to shift your depressive thoughts elsewhere. “I’ve heard Enoshima and Kamakura are nice. They’re about an hour or so south of Shinjuku by the sea. Probably not the same, but might be worth checking out.”

“Tokyo and Osaka both have their charms,” the man muses. “After all, unlike Osaka, Tokyo has a cute bartender that makes a pretty damn good Manhattan.” It takes you a minute to register that he was, in fact, talking about you. A flush warms its way across your face. You were used to patrons trying to flirt with you, but for some reason, it felt different coming from him.

“But, like I said,” he continues. “Endless opportunities and untapped potential. They’re cities that hide their claws.”

“Claws?”

Suddenly, he stands, the bar stool making a hair-raising screech across the floor. And holy shit was he taller than you initially assumed. He’s lean, with a slim waist, but his suit is tailored perfectly to his frame. He reaches into his coat pocket for his wallet before handing you a metallic black card.

“I’ll close my tab now.”

“Oh…Of course.”

You catch the name emblazoned on the bottom.

Arkha Corvus.

Wait.

Corvus?

As in the Corvus Capital?!

You try to mask your surprise as you run the card for the ridiculously overpriced, 2000¥ yen drink. The Corvus Capital was the largest banking firm in all of Japan. Most large businesses partnered with them when it came to investing in stocks and bonds. You supposed now it made sense, he had just moved from Osaka, given that’s where the company had originally been headquartered.

“I do have some business to attend to, but thank you for the lovely conversation,” Corvus said. That charming smile of his made your stomach flip once more.

“Of course. Thank you for your patronage, Mr. Corvus, and I hope to serve you again.”

It’s a customary procedure, something you say to every client, so you’re sure you’re mistaking the fiery glint in his eyes that flickers away just as fast as it had appeared. With a nod, Corvus takes his card, turns on his heel, and strides off with a confidence that makes the room shudder.

“Wow…he’s so cool.”

Shouting, you nearly jump out of your skin when you look down and see Fu right beside you, crouching behind the counter. Just the top of his head is visible, peeking over the table, so you really wouldn’t notice him unless you were looking closely.

“Fu, what the hell are you doing?! How long have you been there!?”

“The whole time ma’am.” He stares up at you with this large, hopeful eyes that make it damn near impossible to scold him without feeling like you kicked a puppy. “I was waiting for you to give me my next orders, but I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

You sigh, opting to deal with him later as your curious mind couldn’t help but wonder about the mysterious gentleman.

The name Arkha didn’t ring any bells with you. Last you heard, the CEO recently passed away from a sudden illness. You didn’t necessarily keep up to date with the inner workings of the business world, but people at the Sphere liked to gossip. And apparently, the death of the former tycoon caused great uncertainty with several rival groups vying for a chance at the company’s profits.

Curiously, you couldn’t help but wonder what the relation with Arkha was. Corvus wasn’t a common last name in Japan, so he had to be related to the former CEO in some way.

Quickly, you shake the thought out of your head.

The Corvuses were meeting with the Typhons, you reminded yourself. Whether they were truly business partners or not, you had no desire to get in between their power games.

After all, the strong would just eat you alive. And you didn’t think you would be so successful at escaping a second time.

“And where have you been? I’ve been all over this damn bar looking for you?”

Corvus let out an amused chuckle, which only deepened the unamused frown on his assistant’s face. The blonde woman folds her arms across her chest, clearly waiting for a credible excuse for his tardiness. Granted, he did arrive on time. He just didn’t meet Semiu at the designated area in the lobby like she had planned.

“Hello? Are you listening to me, boss?”

“I hear ya.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket to see that he has several missed calls and increasingly annoyed texts from Semiu, as well as a few messages from Gris Rubion. “I’ve been around. Here and there.”

“Here and there?” Semiu replies incredulously. “Are you aware that you work my last good nerve, sir?”

“I’m aware,” Corvus laughs.

Semiu was an American woman who had worked for his family for several years as his personal assistant. Before Corvus had assumed the role of CEO, she mostly handled secretary-like work, such as scheduling his meetings and handling his emails. But since taking the position, her workload has undeniably increased (and her pay, of course).

It wasn’t necessarily that Corvus didn’t care about the work his father did. After all, ever since he was a teenager, his father had drilled into him everything he needed to one day take over the company. For university, Corvus even went to Stanford to get his degree in finance and economics. His fate was essentially set from the start, and now that he’s well into his 30s, he’s long accepted that.

That didn’t mean he always loved it.

Corvus hated playing the mind games that came with it.

How he had to navigate the power dynamics that he unwillingly became a part of because it was his father who decided to start a multibillion-dollar corporation. How he had to play nice with the other businessmen who were clearly trying to manipulate the terms and conditions for their gain rather than to conduct a fair deal.

But with his father’s untimely death, Corvus had to pick up where he left off with little time to grieve the loss of a man who felt more like a business partner than a parent. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t his first choice to run the company. The Corvus Capital was his.

And he wouldn’t let anyone run it into the ground.

“Semiu, what do you think of the Sphere?” Corvus asks suddenly. After receiving confirmation of Gris’s arrival, he pockets his phone once more.

“The Club?” Semiu readjusts her glasses before taking a glance around the lobby. The lavish atmosphere was overly saturated with whites and golds, making the place look like a pearly castle instead of a nightclub and hotel. And the patrons that gathered were dressed just as luxuriously. “It feels superficial,” she says.

“Hm. It does, doesn’t it?” He motions for her to follow. They’d need to meet with the Typhon group soon, and Gris would meet them at the bar. “It provides the illusion of fantasy, but underneath conceals poisonous thorns that are nothing more than a plague that ravages the weak.”

“I don’t quite think I follow, sir. You think that Mr. Caines is running a shady campaign on the side?”

“It’s Tamsy Caines. Of course he is,” Corvus scoffed. “He learned all his tactics from his late mother, hence why I don’t trust the man as far as I could throw him.”

“Is that why you’ve agreed to meet with Mr. Typhon?” Semiu questions. “I have heard similarly that he is not a fan of Mr. Caines.”

Corvus shrugs dismissively. “Not exactly. I don’t trust him one bit either, but I would be a fool not to learn from my competitors, given I’m so new to the game. After all, I have the upper hand right now, because, as far as everyone assumes, I will run the company like my father. I will use their naivety to my advantage.”

“And what exactly is your end goal? I’ve known you long enough that being the most profitable company in all of Japan has never been a priority to you.”

Semiu knew him well. “I’m merely watching how this clash between Titans plays out,” Corvus said with a small hint of a smile. “The Typhon Corporation. The Caines Industry. And the Corvus Capital. I want to see who comes out on top, and if it ends up being me, then so be it, I suppose.”

The short-haired woman regards him with a skeptical look. “I don’t think I believe you’re telling me the whole truth, but I’ll drop it for now. If we keep Mr. Typhon waiting too long, what your true motives are will be the least of my concerns.”

The two of them head to the agreed meeting spot, which in actuality was the lounge of the bar Corvus had just visited. By now, many of the early guests had cleared out as the lounge was being siphoned off for “a private event.”

Corvus found himself looking around. He couldn’t help but wonder if the bartender he was talking with earlier would still be around. He wasn’t quite sure how Tamsy ran things, and if only certain staff would be around during private meetings.

“Boss.” A blond gentleman dressed in a grey suit meets Corvus and Semiu at the door. “A pleasure to see you, as always.”

“Gris.” Giving the other man a firm handshake, Corvus offers him a polite smile, while Semiu merely nods in acknowledgment. “Thanks for coming out. How’s your wife doing?”

“Currently down with the flu.” Gris let out a nervous chuckle, sheepishly running a hand down the base of his neck, his gold wedding band glinting on his finger. “She only agreed to let me go if I brought back a slice of cheesecake from the restaurant, so please don’t let me leave without it.”

“Duly noted. I appreciate your support.”

The Rubion Group was a long-time partner. Before his retirement, the previous CEO, Gris’s father, had actually been good friends with Corvus’s father, hence the close relationship. The modest marketing firm dabbles in quite a few different advertising companies, including a couple of magazines, and they recently inherited a news outlet that was on the verge of bankruptcy. The Corvuses held a pretty large investment share in one of the magazines, but the Rubions were honestly one of the few legitimately good companies that didn’t have any skeletons in their closets.

Unsurprisingly, Zodyl Typhon came with an entourage of his own. A short woman with teal hair, who seems to glare at everyone, is dwarfed by her much larger colleague, who was probably close to Corvus’s own 6’5”. He appeared to be the eldest out of everyone from his greying beard, but Corvus knew better than to underestimate how dangerous he could be. The woman, too.

“Mr. Typhon,” Corvus greets coolly. “A pleasure.”

The younger gentleman’s hardened expression doesn’t waver. “Mr. Corvus. You know I hate small talk, so let’s jump straight into business, shall we?”

From afar, you watch the business transaction go down.

You can feel the tension all the way from the bar as you and one other manager mix up drinks that were ordered. Given the nature of the meeting, anyone who didn’t have managerial status was dismissed for the night. Though you don’t think like people like Fu were upset, given he looked like he was nearly piss himself when Zodyl looked his way.

Part of you was nosy. You wanted to know what they were discussing, because from the sharp look on Zodyl’s face, you couldn’t quite tell if it was his natural expression or if the deal wasn’t going the way he had hoped. The blond gentleman with the Corvus side seemed to do most of the talking while the sole woman took notes and distributed papers to her colleagues.

Corvus—Arkha—however, seemed largely disengaged. In fact, his attention was elsewhere.

You told yourself you were imagining things because there was no way he was sneaking glances at you of all people. But you undeniably lock eyes from afar, his greyish-blue eyes softening ever so slightly when you meet his gaze.

“Do you mind taking these out?” Your coworker pulls your attention away from the group. She pushes the tray of finished drinks toward you, giving a fearful look in the direction of your clients. “T-they’re way too intimidating that I’m positive I’ll drop everything.”

“Take out the trash and it’s a deal.”

“Deal.”

You hoist the tray onto your arm with ease. Training your attention to the ground as you approach, you try to will your heart rate to slow and to steady your arm. The last thing you wanted would be to embarrass yourself by spilling everything on yourself or one of the clients.

Only the blond gentleman thanks you as you set his whiskey before him. A mojito for the blonde woman. Another Manhattan for Arkha. You can feel his gaze on you as you bend over to set the drink on the table, and you try not to shudder.

“Corvus,” came Zodyl’s sharp tone, making you jump. A small splash of alcohol spilled from one of the glasses. “I’d appreciate your full attention on this matter.”

“Oh, best believe, you do have it,” Corvus responds, reaching out to pick up his drink. His hand brushes against yours ever so slightly, sending electricity through your arm. “But not for the reason you assume. Let me get this straight. You want us to stake 7 billion yen into your company, invest in a brand that’s hardly offering us anything in return, other than the fact that my company partnering with yours looks good on paper. As someone who has never been remotely interested in working with us before, I can’t help but question the sudden intrigue.”

A muscle in Zodyl’s jaw ticks.

“I am aware of what the current stocks look like, Mr. Typhon,” Corvus continues. “I’m well aware that Caines is sitting at the top in Japan, with your company trailing further behind, the more money the Sphere makes. Having my company invest in yours will easily push you over the threshold to dethrone your rival. And unfortunately, I have no interest whatsoever in playing petty games. I have a business to run first and foremost.”

“Hey, watch your tone—“ The teal-haired woman snaps, but her boss merely holds up a hand to silence her.

To his credit, Zodyl keeps his neutral expression. He leans back into his chair, crossing one leg over his knee. “I understand your reservations, but remember I, too, am a businessman first and foremost. My company is also my priority. If you’re unhappy with the terms that I’ve laid out, then by all means, review them. I merely hope to achieve a resolution that is mutually beneficial for both of us. As you know, the business world is cutthroat, and it is necessary to have allies one can trust.”

Corvus merely smiles. He had to give Zodyl credit. Only he could spout such bullshit and make it sound genuine. If Corvus had been anyone else, he would’ve jumped the gun at being able to partner with the Typhon Corporation. But he knew better than to assume that Zodyl didn’t have an ulterior motive.

“But of course,” Corvus responds, faking a cheerful tone. “Semiu, could you kindly forward the contract to Bro Santa for further review. I want an answer by Friday, so that we can give our colleagues a proper response early next week.”

“Yes, sir.”

The finality in Corvus’s tone effectively ends the meeting. If he’s perturbed that things didn’t go his way, Zodyl doesn’t show it, and his group promptly leaves after the elder gentleman settles their tab. The blonde woman closes the bill on behalf of Corvus, and you find yourself somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t been the one to do so.

Not that you wanted to talk to him or anything.

You keep your head down as you clean up and close down the bar while pretending not to hear Corvus talk with his colleagues. Arguably, you, too, were kinda curious about this so-called deal. Sure, it made sense, you supposed, that every CEO or businessman wants their company to be the most successful. You didn’t quite understand why Zodyl was seemingly so insistent on surpassing Tamsy.

His disdain for the club owner seemed to run deeper than just petty jealousy. Then again, you couldn’t say for certain. But with his shady connections, couldn’t he just simply blackmail Tamsy or something? Maybe hack into his computer and steal his clients? The media would eat up a good scandal.

The thought made you laugh.

As you emerge from the elevator in the employee parking, you’re met with the cold draft of the lot. The dim lights flicker overhead, and the warm summer air flushes your skin. You quickly make your way down the aisles, looking for your car, when something cold is suddenly pressed against the front of your neck. You freeze, your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Make any sudden moves, and I’ll slit your throat.”

Without moving your head, you glance over your shoulder to see the teal-haired woman from earlier. Her glare honestly terrifies you more than the pocketknife pressed to your neck, which is saying a lot given her short stature.

“I see Mr. Typhon still refuses to get his hands dirty,” you click your tongue in annoyance. “Always sending you to do the grunt work, huh, Cthoni.”

“Shut up, you damn traitor.”

“Traitor?” You laugh, not caring that she presses the knife further against your skin. “I’ve done no such thing.”

“Yet you work for Tamsy Caines.”

“Yeah, cause my ass almost got thrown in jail, and your boss wasn’t jumping to pay my bail.”

Cthoni makes a sound similar to either a huff or a grunt, but she pulls away from you. Pressing a hand to your throat, it comes back with a couple of drops of red. The bitch knicked you.

“Where is the ledger?” Cthoni demands.

“Would it kill you to say please?” When her glare doesn’t waver, you roll your eyes before reaching into your bag. Eventually, buried beneath all your crap, you find what you’re looking for: a nondescript black notebook. Rather, a copy of the ledgers for all the club’s bars. It’s only thanks to your recent promotion as manager that you’ve been able to gain access to them.

Cthoni all but snatches them from your hand. She flips through the first few pages before a rare smile tugs at her lips. No doubt, she didn’t trust you to actually provide what had been asked of you.

“We’ll be in touch, y/n,” the woman says, her cold mask placed back on. “And tell anyone, and—“

“Yeah. I know the spiel. I’m as good as dead.” You cross your arms. “Why don’t you try something a little more creative next time? Last time you told me you’d cut my tongue and offer it at the shrines. That one was pretty good.”

With one last scowl, Cthoni turns on her heel and disappears down the aisle of cars. You wait until the echo of her shoes disappears, signaling that she has left in the elevator.

“Well, that was quite an interesting exchange.”

You freeze, your breath hitching as a new set of footsteps approaches.

Yeah, scratch that, you were beyond dead.

You were royally fucked.

Trying not to let your fear (or guilt) show, you turn to face the newcomer.

“Now,” Arkha Corvus says with a bemused smile. “Why don’t you tell me why you would go behind your employer’s back like this?”

Corvus’s car was dark and luxurious, perfect for the mystery you have yet to understand. You try not to squirm in the ridiculously comfortable black leather seats and keep your gaze trained on the passing city outside.

The train rumbles overhead. The occasional drunk salaryman stumbles down the street. Billboards' glaring light drowns out the night sky. Everything is so neon and bright and loud and…man. Corvus was right earlier.

Tokyo is fast paced.

You try to ignore it, but you can feel his gaze from the opposite seat. And you don’t think he’s looked away since you got in the SUV.

Regardless of how you may try to spin it, Corvus knows. And with that knowledge, he can ruin your life. He could tell Tamsy if he wanted, or worse, the police, given what you’ve been doing is highly illegal. And you don’t think anyone would believe or really care if you claimed you were being blackmailed.

After all, Zodyl Typhon is a billionaire. He’s the untouchable CEO of the Typhon Corporation, the beloved technology giant behind some of the most commonly used software products in all of Japan. Who would believe that he was secretly paying a young twenty-something-year-old woman with nothing to her name to steal banking information from her boss? Even if he was caught, it’s not like he couldn’t just pay his way out of trouble.

That’s the difference between you and him. You knew you were just another disposable pawn. And you foolishly got taken by the opposing king.

You place your hand on your knee to stop its jittering. You make yourself control your breathing. You wouldn’t have an anxiety attack now.

No. Not in front of Corvus. That would just further solidify your guilt.

“I’m not going to say anything to your boss if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Corvus says.

You meet his gaze finally. “Huh?”

“I have no interest in bringing this up to Caines. And I’m not particularly concerned about telling Typhon either.” He rests his fist against his cheek, observing you with the curious caution of a predator. “However, you will answer my questions, and your responses determine whether or not I’ll change my mind.”

“So you’re blackmailing me?” You laugh.

“No. It’s just business.”

Eventually, you arrive at an upscale building in Roppongi. The driver parks in the garage, bidding his employer a good night, then Corvus leads you to the elevator. You feel so small standing next to him, and you try to focus your attention on the ascending buttons until you arrive on the 25th floor.

The doors open to a penthouse with dark furniture and marble tiling to match. Large windows overlook the city. The entryway leads right to the living room, where a massive flatscreen television hangs on the mantle. Just down the hall, the room opens up to the kitchen, and damn your curiosity for wondering where some of the closed doors led.

“Come,” Corvus urges, beginning to unbutton his cuffs. He hangs his coat on a stand by the door. “Would you like a drink? Perhaps a glass of wine?”

“Oh…um. Sure?”

Corvus pulls two glasses from the shelf. You stand awkwardly in the doorway, watching as he fills each with a red wine you don’t recognize from the bottle. You thank him when he hands you your drink. The liquid is oddly sweet on your tongue.

“We can talk freely in my office.”

The office is just as foreboding as the rest of the place. A large leather couch takes up most of the room, with a large, dark desk sitting by the window. Bookshelves align both sides of the room, and you notice a small stand with some dark liquors on it. Even the carpets were black.

“Are you trying to go for a Batman vibe or something, because I think you nailed it.” You try to make a joke to ease your nerves, but it actually elicits a chuckle from the man.

“It does give that, doesn’t it?” Corvus gestures for you to sit, and you stiffly do so on the couch. He leans against his desk, downs the rest of his drink, then sets the empty glass on the shelf. “Now, let’s talk. Tell me, Y/n, what’s your relationship with the Raiders?”

You don’t bother to hide your surprise. “You knew?”

“Arguably, I knew from the start. It’s one of the reasons why I initially approached you at the bar. And it didn’t help, the entire meeting, you avoided Zodyl like the plague. To his credit, he didn’t acknowledge you, so it came across as an innocent bartender being intimidated by the clients.”

You aren’t completely sure how he could’ve known, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he had his own informants, much like you were.

“There isn’t much to say,” you sigh. “I got involved with the Raiders in my early twenties. They caught wind of my skills with a computer and basically hired me on occasion to find information on their targets. It was good money, and I had hardly anything else to my name, so I didn’t have a reason to say no.”

The frown on your face deepens, and you down your drink quickly for liquid courage. Corvus patiently waits for you to continue.

“Then, about four years ago, I found out one of their targets who owed money was a member of the Cleaners gang. Incidentally, the guy who was practically my older brother was also a member of said gang. I…I tried to do the right thing and warn him, to try to save his friend. I was too late, and it blew up in my face.”

The stinging burn of tears threatening to fall makes your eyes water. Your chest constricts with the familiar tightness of guilt.

“The fight made national news,” you add quietly. “I was nearly arrested for being at the wrong place at the right time, and Tamsy offered to cover mine and my brother’s bail if we worked for him.”

“Does your brother know what you did?” Corvus asks. You shake your head, nervously twiddling your fingers.

“I sent an anonymous tip. It would break his heart if he knew I was indirectly involved with his friend’s death.” And it was a secret you swore to take to the grave.

“I see.” Corvus crossed his arms. The subtle flex of his forearms has heat warming across your face, and you squirm in your seat. “So, why do you continue to do Typhon’s bidding?”

“Partially blackmail. He holds it over my head what I’ve done, which will undeniably get me arrested, and then Enjin will find out. That and well…” you let out a pitiful laugh. “Money. The sooner I can clear my debt with Tamsy, the sooner I can get the hell out of Tokyo and never look back.”

You two fall into an uneasy silence as the weight of your explanation—well, more like confession—hangs in the air. Corvus wears a neutral mask that doesn’t betray any emotion from what you could tell. But his light eyes narrow slightly in focus. There’s a hint of something lingering in his gaze, not quite judgment, but rather an intensity.

“I propose a deal,” Corvus finally says, pushing himself off his desk. “One where the terms are more favorable than the ones you’ve been subjected to.”

“D-deal? What kind of deal?” You try not to show your apprehension as he approaches you.

“The one thing I despise most is petty power games.” When he drops to his knees before you, you tense. Corvus reaches out to cup your cheek. This close, his cologne tickles your nose, strong and slightly woodsy. It makes you press your thighs together, trying to quell the desire pooling in between them. “I want you to come work for me.”

“H-huh?”

“Whatever your remaining debt is at the Sphere, I shall pay off, and if Typhon wants the business deal with me to go through, then he must accept my terms as well as leave you alone. He wouldn’t want to risk such a scandal going public, nor does he want to do anything that will tip Caines off.”

For the first time, a flicker of mischief glints in his eyes, and you realize just how truly dangerous this man is. This is what he meant by Tokyo is a city that hides its claws. Arkha Corvus was playing his own game.

“B-but…” you don’t think you understand him properly. Work for him? As in, work for Corvus Capital? With what qualifications? Sure, you had some knowledge of computers and did okay with money stuff as a manager, but this deal seemed way too good to be true. And you weren’t going to let yourself be trapped again by someone else.

Hesitantly, you pull back away from Corvus’s touch, though you were mentally protesting against doing so. “What do you get out of this? You said it was a fair deal for both of us, but I’m just a pawn being played around.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, y/n.” The way he says your name has your chest fluttering. “You have connections to the Raiders and have access to the Sphere with no real fealty to either. Arguably, that makes you the most dangerous and powerful one on the board. We call that piece the Queen. And I merely would be a fool to make an enemy out of you.”

Queen.

You almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. This gorgeous man was giving you more credit than you deserved. But realistically, what better option did you have? You were already playing a dangerous game as it is.

“Before I give my answer, may I ask a question and propose a few terms of my own?” You ask.

“You may.”

“Earlier, you said one of the reasons why you approached me at the bar was cause you knew I was a Raider. What was the other?”

Corvus smiles, that charming grin making your stomach flip. “Well, I thought you were very beautiful.”

You gape at him, waiting for the punchline of the joke. When there isn’t one, you feel embarrassment slowly creep across your neck up to your ears. “Y-you’re serious?!”

“One thing I hope you learn from us working together is that I do not like liars, darlin’.” He brushes his knuckle across your cheek, moving a stray hair from your face. “Now, what were your other terms?”

“Am I allowed to ask for anything?”

“If you think it’s something within my power to do.”

You reach out and grab him by his necktie. Brief surprise flickers across his face before he schools it into that damned charming smile. “It’s less of a demand and more of a request,” you say. “If I’m going to work for you, I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“I want to be your equal. Don’t treat me like some piece that can be discarded when you’re bored.”

“Oh sugar, you ain’t gotta worry about that. You know why?” Corvus slowly closes the distance between you two, backing you against the couch. Your breath hitches slightly, and a quiet whimper leaves your lips as one of his hands skims over your stomach.

“W-why?” You gasp.

“The other thing you’ll need to know about me is that when I set my eyes on something, I refuse to let it go. And you, darlin’, are now mine.”

Corvus seals the promise with a kiss.

You groan against him, the faint taste of the wine he drank earlier still on his tongue. His weight presses you to the couch, his hands trailing up your sides with a fluttering touch that makes you squirm.

“A-ah…” you gasp as his lips press to your jaw, then your neck, peppering kisses down your chest as he slowly unbuttons your shirt. “Arkha.”

“Mhm. I think I could get used to you saying my name like that.” With his free hand, Corvus begins to loosen his tie, the veins on his forearm rippling as he does. “Up. I want to admire the rest of you.”

You sit up just enough to shrug off your shirt. Corvus gathers you in his arms, smashing his lips back against yours with more need. He pulls you closer, cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss. You groan at the taste of his mouth on yours, arching your back to press against him as you wind your arms around his neck.

Corvus suddenly stands, bringing you with him as he crosses the room. He holds you with ease, and the cheeky bastard gives your ass a playful squeeze, which makes you yelp. As he sets you on the edge of his desk, Corvus uses the opportunity to teasingly bite your lip, drawing your low whines from them. You pull away and try to cover your mouth, but heat continues to burn across your body from the way his fluttering touch continues to grace every inch of your bare skin.

“No need to hold back,” Corvus mumbles, sounding slightly breathless. He undoes the button on your pants, dragging them down your hips once they are loose enough. The man then sinks to his knees before you. “I want to hear all the pretty sounds you make as I worship you.”

His hands trace down your waist and over your thighs, making you shiver. He presses a kiss against your bare knee. His grey irises flicker with adoration as he looks up at you.

“A-Arkha…”

Corvus drags your lacy panties down your calf. He pulls you closer so that your legs can settle around his shoulders. Your grip on the edge of the desk tightens, anxiously waiting for what he would do next. You let out a squeak of surprise when his breath fans against your pussy, but Corvus does not touch you right away. He places tantalizing, slow kisses up your inner thigh, working his way towards the sensitive place you want to feel him most.

“You’re already this wet f’me? Does my touch turn you on this much, darlin?”

Feeling slightly emboldened by the sight of him down on his knees in front of you, you respond with, “Put your mouth on me and find out.”

“Very well.”

You immediately gasp out, hands clenching tighter around the desk as Corvus licks your folds. He’s gentle at first. You feel his tongue press in you, making you shiver from delight. Corvus nearly groans at your taste, trying his best to keep some sense of composure. However, just the slightest taste of your sweet cunt and he was already drunk off of you.

“A-Arkha…” Your hands hover above his head, unsure of where to hold. You then use them to cover your mouth, trying to hide the embarrassing sounds leaving your lips when his teeth teasingly tug on your clit.

“Go on. You can pull my hair,” Corvus mumbles. “No need to be gentle, darlin.”

And with that, he grows greedy, trying to savor more of your sweet, addictive release. You gasp as he delivers a harsh suck on your clit, his teeth teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until tears fill your eyes. His nails dig into your thighs as he grips them to bury his face deeper between them.

You feel your head spin as the overwhelming pleasure overloads your senses.

“Fuck, Arkha, I’m close,” you whimper.

Your back arches up, pressing yourself firmly against his face, making it hard for him to breathe. Not that Corvus particularly cared. If he suffocated to death by your pussy, then he’d gladly die a happy man.

“That’s a good girl,” he grunts. “Keep making a mess on my tongue. That’s it~”

This time, you don’t hesitate to fist his hair and tug, which elicits a low groan from him. Your heel digs into his shoulder blade, desperately trying to keep him close.

“Ah—A-Arkha!”

Your toes curl, and the pressure coiling in your stomach snaps. Dots spot your vision as your orgasm rolls through you, and you’re left feeling like you’re floating. His eager tongue drinks you up, trying not to waste a single drop. A throaty growl resounds from the back of his throat as you pull his hair roughly.

Only once your legs are trembling and you’re practically sobbing his name, then Corvus pulls away, not before placing a parting kiss on your slobbering cunt. “This pretty pussy’s so perfect. Just look at her, dripping all just f’me.”

Corvus slowly rises, licking your release off his lips. You have a slightly dazed look in your eye as you watch him discard his shirt. Despite his slim frame, his clothing hid his solid build of muscle and firm pectorals, which flex ever so slightly as he reaches over you to pull something from one of the desk drawers.

“Arkha, please,” you whimper. Desire and lust mixed together in a hazy swirl of heat that had your cunt throbbing with need. “I want more. Want your cock, please.”

Running your hand down his abdomen and over his crotch, you teasingly grope him through his slacks. You can feel his arousal, hard against your palm. And you swear the slightest shiver runs through him.

“Darlin, you don’t ever gotta beg for me,” Corvus groans. He grabs your hands before he can cum in his pants just from your sinful touch. “I said I’d worship you, and pleasure every inch of your body I shall.”

Pulling a condom from the drawer, he hands you the package to open. As you tear open the foil, you watch him undress, his belt undone, his pants discarded. Your heart races in nervous anticipation as he frees his cock from his boxers. He’s thick and long, oozing with white pre cum.

“Go on,” Corvus murmurs. Settling his hands on either side of you, he leans in slightly, lips gracing your jaw. “Put it on me. Take what’s yours.”

You take his cock into your hands, and immediately, he flinches at your touch. At first, you’re concerned you’ve done something wrong, but when you look up at Corvus, his pupils are blown wide, staring at you with a hungry intensity that has you trembling with excitement. Red burns the tips of his ears, and his sensitive length twitches ever so slightly as you roll the condom down it.

Corvus kisses you gently. “Hold on to me. I got you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tensing as you felt the fat head of his cock nudge through your pussy’s slick folds, trying to stretch your womb into the shape of his length. You whimper, nails digging into his shoulders as he continues to inch himself forward.

Corvus was trying his best to be gentle. He truly didn’t want to hurt you. But admittedly, his sense of control was wavering when it came to you. But the way your gummy walls clamped around him so deliciously, he was sure he’d come instantly. Already, he could feel his cock throb. If he had been drunk on the way you tasted, he was certainly a glutton, even more so for the way you felt around him.

Experimentally rolling his hips, Corvus lets out a shaky sigh while you moan as the length of him fills you up again. And again. And again. Until the desk begins to creak from the force of his thrusts, and he’s completely and utterly lost in the feeling of your cunt continuously sucking him in.

“Your pussy’s still making such a mess,” Corvus chuckles breathlessly. “Can you hear? Trying her best to take all of me.”

He slowly pulls his cock out of the clamp of your weeping hole, making you whine as you feel him tease your clit with the mushroom head of his cock. Your puffy lips fluttered around his length, your slick release allowing him to slide back in with ease. It’s messy where you two connect, your arousal mixing with his precum, smearing down Corvus’s cock in a messy coat of white each time his hips snap against yours.

“Fuck!” You gasp. Your hips burned with a delicious ache, growing sore both from his harsh thrusts and the edge of the desk digging into them. “Arkha—ah.” You cling to him when he suddenly hoists you up.

His lips are on yours again, and he kisses you like it was his lifeline, the only thing keeping him grounded to reality. “I got you,” Corvus murmurs. He’s out of breath, but still kisses you as if the taste of your lips were the oxygen he desperately needed. “I got you, darlin.”

You aren’t sure if he’s trying to reassure himself or you. Either way, you refuse to let him go, even as your back meets the plush leather of the couch. Above you, Corvus looks handsome, even disheveled. His hair falls in loose strands over his shoulders, and sweat makes his dark skin glisten. Yet, he’s looking at you as if you’re the only girl in his world.

“What is it?” You ask shyly.

“Nothing. Just admiring how beautiful you are.”

“Stop that.”

Corvus merely smiles, finding your bashfulness cute. He’s gentle when he kisses you again, and you sigh into him. You whimper slightly at the penetration of him entering you once more, the stretch of him breaching past your walls.

“Sorry, darlin. Remember what I told you earlier,” Corvus whispers. “I dislike lying.”

The thick length of his cock drags across your gummy walls when he moves, massaging where you’re most sensitive. Most of his body weight pins you to the couch, leaving you helplessly keening against him as he fills you up in all the best ways.

And each time the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, you feel yourself winding tighter and tighter until your orgasm hits you full force.

“S-shit,” you gasp, arching yourself into Cofvus, who swears under his breath.

Gripping your hips with a strength that could bruise, Corvus fucks into you once, twice—then with a low moan, he’s cumming so hard it throws him off balance. “Hah—fuck,” Corvus hisses. He braces himself on his forearms, resting his forehead against yours. “You okay, darlin'?”

One of his hands trails down your side, squeezing your hips and your ass. You can’t tell if he’s trying to soothe the aches or if he’s being cheeky. But you’re suspecting the latter from the way his dick was still hard.

“Never better,” you exhale, finding yourself relaxed from the post-organismic bliss and his teasing touch.

“Good.” Corvus playfully nips your lip. “Then, you’re good to go for another round? I don’t think I’ve gotten my fill of you just yet.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Aren’t you insatiable?”

“Only for you, darlin.”

Light filters through the window, peering through the blinds. You groan before opening your bleary eyes. As your vision comes into focus, you realize that you weren’t in your room back at your crappy apartment. Dark shelves are the first thing you see, and the familiar smell of whisky and leather provides an odd sense of comfort.

Sitting up, a blanket falls down your bare shoulders. You realize you’re still in Corvus’s office, having fallen asleep on the couch after…your cheeks burn slightly at the memory.

“You’re awake.” You startled slightly and pulled the blanket up to your chest. Corvus, you hadn’t realized, was sitting at his desk working on the computer. He had on a pair of black glasses, and you didn’t think the man could possibly become even more attractive than he already was.

Under his gaze, you feel nervous, well, more like shy, and you’re acutely aware that you still have no clothes on underneath. It seems ridiculous to worry about such a small thing, given he saw everything last night.

“You let me sleep?” You say, and the moment you do, you realize how stupid it sounds.

Corvus, to his credit, only chuckles. “Well, I did wear you out, so it only seemed fair.” Heat climbs onto your face at his bluntness. “I had some work to do, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“What kind of work?” You ask. Pulling the blanket around your shoulders, you pad over to the desk to get a look at his computer. Instead, Corvus pulls you into his lap and wraps an arm around you. He’s dressed fairly casually, in sweat pants and a plain t-shirt. But the crisp fragrance of his cologne suggests he might’ve showered.

“Looking over the contract from Zodyl,” Corvus explains. “My lawyer made some suggestions and sent those notes over this morning.”

“But the meeting was just last night? They looked through everything that fast?”

Corvus shrugs. “What can I say. Bro is very efficient. He had some good points for us to raise in the next round of negotiations, but something about it all still unsettles me.” You turn slightly to get a look at him and note the strangely serious expression on his face.

“What about it bothers you?”

“Well, in theory, partnering with Zodyl is not a bad business move. The timing is suspicious, sure, but it’s not uncommon for people to try to form deals when a new CEO steps into their role. It’s a way to ensure that they stay on good terms. While most of the contract terms seem normal, the fact that he has had you steal ledgers from the Sphere makes me question his motives.”

You try not to flinch, the shame of your actions washing over you. But the more you thought about it, Corvus did make a valid point. If Zodyl had secured a deal with him, he’d greatly boost his company’s profits. So why was he having you essentially steal confidential information?

“Y/n, if I ask you a question, will you please answer me honestly?” Corvus asks.

“Um…” your heart skips a beat. “Yeah, of course.”

“Has Zodyl ever had you steal any other kinds of private information? Or, do you know of anyone else who might be an informant for the Raiders?”

You pause to think.

“Zodyl never contacts me directly. I receive all my instructions from Cthoni. I once was told to work with another bartender named Jabber to get into the security room undetected while one of their hackers got into the system. As far as I know, the only things they’ve ever searched for were emails, bank statements, and contracts Tamsy has signed.”

“It sounds like they’re looking for something, but what?” Corvus sighs. “Has he ever asked you to look into my company?”

You hesitate, but it’s your tension that gives you away.

“Y/n.” He says your name with such a hard tone that it actually has you shrinking back. You avoid his gaze, but your silence alone is an admission in itself.

“I’m sorry.”

You hear him exhale.

“B-but it wasn’t anything major. It was maybe three years ago. He wanted to know how much your deal with the Rubion Group would boost your revenue. And I just…helped hack a few accounts…while your friend was visiting the Sphere…and…” Your voice trails off to a pitiful squeak.

You wait for him to get angry. The moment where he inevitably decides that this has crossed the line and he’ll want nothing more to do with you. You tell yourself that you can handle the rejection and that you’ll accept whatever punishment comes after.

Instead, Corvus sighs, rubbing his temple. “Darlin, I say this with no disrespect, but you are the wrong person to make an enemy out of. Please remind me to never piss you off lest I want you hacking into my emails or something.”

“I’m not really a hacker though,” you mumble. “I just find information.”

“So, a hacker,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your bare shoulder while wrapping his arms tighter around your midsection. You relax against him, comforted by his warmth. “I’ll just have to guard my secrets extra close.”

A memory suddenly strikes you.

“Several years ago, wasn’t the Corvus Capital the top company in Japan?” You ask.

Regarding you with a strange look, Corvus nods. “I believe so. Arguably, I never really kept track like that because I thought it was pointless.”

“And it wasn’t until the Sphere opened that things really changed. After all, the Typhon Corporation had always been a strong company, so fluctuations between your companies were normal. It wasn’t until Tamsy came, revamped the club he inherited, and essentially blew him out of the water that it became a problem.”

Corvus seems to ponder this, and you see the gears start to spin in his mind. “Zodyl doesn’t want to just overthrow the Sphere in terms of profit, but eliminate the threat of competition altogether.”

“It’s a possibility,” you suggest. “It’s the only explanation I can possibly think of for wanting things like contracts and bank statements. He wants to see who Tamsy has business with and how much money he is making.”

Corvus’s thumb absentmindedly traces circles on your hip while his frown deepens in thought. Although it’s comforting, you still can’t help the nagging feeling of guilt as the culmination of the things you’ve done on behalf of the Raiders sinks in. It makes you feel like crap.

“You must think I’m a terrible person,” you mutter. “I’m no better than a criminal, and it would probably do you good to just turn me in.”

The chair jerks back suddenly, which causes you to fall against his chest, catching you off guard. Corvus then shifts you so that you’re straddling him.

“I think you’re just a victim who found herself caught between a rock and a hard place,” Corvus says gently. “What you’ve done may not have been right, but you were unfairly tangled in a much larger scheme after someone took advantage of your desperation.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

He cups your cheek, and you hate that you find yourself relaxing into his tender caress. “These power games are complicated. I just hate that you’ve had to play them, but from now on, you have me on your side.”

“What do you get out of all this?” You ask quietly. “Where do you fit in these games? And don’t lie to me. You said you don’t like liars.”

He takes a moment to answer, not quite hesitating but rather, trying to find the right words.

“I’m merely just trying to run my company earnestly,” Corvus answers. “Unfortunately, it's a massive chessboard where you have to remain ten steps ahead of your opponent. While I don’t want to see either of my competitors fall, if they try anything shady toward my company and my people, then I won’t stand for it.”

“Then why play their games at all?”

He shrugs. “You know how it is. It’s eat or be eaten. As long as they don’t see me as a threat, they leave me be. But you needn’t worry. I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you, and if anyone knows what’s good for them, they won’t touch what’s mine.”

The promise he seals with another kiss.

You melt into him, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. His palms are warm against your skin. His lingering touch ignites butterflies throughout your stomach.

“By the way.” You pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Can I get my clothes back?”

“Hm,” Corvus pretends to think, but a telling, sly smile spreads across his lips. He grips your hips, holding you flush against him. “No. I think I quite like you as you are now.”

“E-excuse me?” You sputter. He merely laughs as you angrily hit his chest, cursing him with every foul word you could think of.

He’s trying to distract you, to keep your mind away from the unknown and all the regrets that you have.

And it’s working, which you, for once, appreciate.

Maybe you’ll regret trusting him later, and it will all blow up in your face once more. But for now, you want to embrace the comfort he provides.

And you relish the fact that you won’t be alone with him by your side.

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[trxy-land]

I saw the quagsire table and had to draw a lotad one,, he's basically table-shaped

[mooncakemocha]

Maid day but i only have wips LOL